


In Between

by soncnica



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jensen Ackles, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Childhood Memories, Community: spn_j2_bigbang, Creepy, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Family, Fantasy, Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Jared, Hurt Jensen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Memories, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post Apocalyptic Earth, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Violence, Vomiting, Weirdness, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 100,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were here first - a story of Earth destroyed because of fear. A story of cities in ruins, overgrown forests, crystals, home in ice, frozen lakes and spacious caves. A story of anger and fear and stars and darkness and forgiveness. A story of finding family in the most unlikely places. A story of sacrifice and letting go of what one never really had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: In Between  
> Author: soncnica  
> Artist: blythechild (the banner found here: http://blythechild.livejournal.com/622918.html), all additional art made by me, picture in chapter 4 made by my beta.  
> Beta: marlowe78  
> Rating: R  
> Genre/Pairing: Jensen, Jared, OMC's, OFC's, general (no pairings)  
> Wordcount: cca. 100.077 words (apparently I vomit words *shrugs*)  
> Summary: They were here first - a story of Earth destroyed because of fear. A story of cities in ruins, overgrown forests, crystals, home in ice, frozen lakes and spacious caves. A story of anger and fear and stars and darkness and forgiveness. A story of finding family in the most unlikely places. A story of sacrifice and letting go of what one never really had.  
> Warnings: hurt/comfort, hurt!Jensen, hurt!Jared, BAMF!Jensen, disturbing imagery (creepy, dark, weird, fantasy, violence), blood&gore, blood drinking, future!fic - apocalyptic Earth, fantasy, death of minor character(s), drugs (mention and non-con use), not a death fic (per se), explicit language, grief, loneliness.  
> Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.  
> A/N: So my 1st spn_j2_bigbang. Hope whoever will read this will enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you to: my artist (for the beautiful banner), thank you to my beta (who had to suffer through my very unhealthy obsession with commas and oh man, what would I do without my beta?), and thank you to my f-list (who are just absolutely stunning, wonderful bunch of people and without them I'd quit this story a long time ago). And I feel like I should apologize to the people of the world, for destroying their countries in this story, oops!
> 
> There are no words to describe my gratitude to everyone who listened to me whine about this. But now this is done, I'm done and now let's go back to how things were prior me signing up for BigBang. Love&peace&hugs!

****

 

 

**PROLOGUE**  
  
He remembered darkness most of all. He remembered _seeing_ nothing but pitch black, all around, everywhere. Safe, home, belonging, protection, family, love, nothing and everything and he remembered it how it felt inside of him, on him, all around him.

He remembered floating. Endlessly, with no goal and no beginning, just floating every which way, making somersaults in the endless black.

He remembered touches; hands pushing him away, other hands pulling him closer.

He remembered all of them saying 'Jared' and all of them asking 'what' and all of them saying 'your name'.

They were all one. One big mass floating in darkness until searing bright white light separated them into - particles. Light, that no one expected. It came out of nowhere, out of the darkness. They - he - had thought that they had travelled through the whole of darkness, explored it all, touched it all, but it seemed as if it really had no start and no beginning, because the light ... it just came. Tiny spec at first, that grew and grew and grew until it blinded them. Seared them, split them apart so violently they - he - heard crying and wailing and screaming.

Then there was nothingness. Nothing at all; no darkness, no light, just the feeling of floating, drifting, bouncing off of his brothers and sisters in the nothingness.

He remembered fear. Then, after a while, when the nothingness disappeared between one clash of his finger with his siblings and another. Quick and dizzying.

Fear, because _what happened, Father? Where did the darkness go? Where are we my brothers and sisters?_

Between questions and no answers resonating in his head, he saw how the nothingness shimmered down into darkness, littered by tiny flickers of light. That wasn't so horrible. That was ... stunning. It was magnetic. So stunning, so inviting, he had to float towards some of the lights, but he couldn't touch them, couldn't reach them because they were too far away.

Too far away. Everywhere.

                                                                           

He looked at himself and he saw. He was solid, blue and green crystals covering every inch of him as much as he could see. He was shining, he was glistering, he was sparkling even in this darkness.

"Jared!"

The voice was a voice, not _voices_ as it had been in the darkness and he turned around to see. They were all blue and green crystals, arms and legs and eyes that glowed just like his.

They were all floating with the flickering lights all around them.

"Jared ..."

There were many; more than he ever thought there could ever be and he pushed himself towards them, leaving a huge red round thing behind him.

It would once be called Mars, but not yet.

He outstretched his arms; he could see green liquid flow under the blue of his arms, sparkling as it flew from his elbows to his wrists and all around.

"Jared, there."

They all stretched their long, thick arms towards another burning round thing that was just ... there. Floating like they all were, unattached to anything but the nothingness they all were.

It was beautiful and it was boiling hot and it was perfect.

                                                                           

They laid down their bodies on the closest surface they could find; grabbed hold of each other's hands, intertwining their fingers and squeezing hard, not wanting to loose anyone, and looked up at the sky made of tendrils of red-black-yellow gasses that ran through a veil of dusty clouds.

This new thing, this new amazing hard surface they were able to feel underneath their crystals, after floating for so long, was their home now.

They closed their eyes and slept.

For years.

Silently sleeping through billions of years until they were awakened by noise where there should be none. Unfamiliar noise that filled their ears and made them all wake up with a gasp, something liquid-y filling up their mouths and nostrils. They saw new shapes and new colors; everything looked more like their crystals did. Green and blue and white. They could still feel heat, but it was tampering down, getting closer and closer to something resembling what they felt like in the darkness.

They all breathed out, forming bubbles at their dark blue lips: "Something has arrived," and tightened their fingers, holding tighter; in fear, in confusion, in knowledge that they weren't alone anymore. That the place they chose to be together, a solid place to sleep at, to live at ... they'd have to share.

                                                                           

They slept for years to come after they first felt a tremor run through their bodies, but then the tremors became more violent, deeper, more consistent.

"We must go see."

The words were many voices, all voices and the agreement was many voices too.

They held hands when they swam amongst the currents of the bluest blue liquid they had ever seen. When they had lain down to sleep, had been no such thing. No liquids, just fire and solidness. No tremors – well, not like these; there were rumblings and quakes and movements, but this … this was different. It felt different and they had to explore. Had to see.

But this was magnificent. The current was pushing them forward and then left and right, twisting them and turning them and they felt just like they had so long ago in the darkness.

This was familiar. This was like the darkness, except this was blue and bright and wonderful. And the creatures swimming with them were huge and funny looking, but kind even with rows of sharp spears and gaping mouths.

They floated on the current of the sea, letting it take them wherever it seemed fit and when they touched something where the water broke into white foam ... they saw what made the tremors that woke them up.

It was ... something on two feet. Long arms. Hairy. It ... looked like them when it walked on its legs, but its look was ... it wasn't blue and green. It was ... brown and dirty. And it made awful noises, not at all like their melodic whispers.

"What is it?"

They had asked, but no one among them knew the answer. It looked like them, except for it was not covered in blue and green crystals, but brown fur.

They broke through the water and walked through the white foam towards the creature who stood there, on the sandy shore, looking at them.

"We mean you no harm."

They said, but their words came out like a melody, like the sound those creatures in the water made.

The creature looked at them and stood as tall as it could, which was still very much shorter than them. They looked at it from above when they came nearer and flinched back when it made a roaring sound.

But it stayed. Fascinated.

"There will be more of them. We need to be watchful," they said and turned to Keir.

"Keir, please."

They all looked at the oldest of them, the one who had been the first of them, the one from whom all of them came. His round head was sparkling light blue in the bright sun that was beating down on them from the clear, blue sky. The sound of the water breaking on the sand was like a lullaby and they wanted to go back to where they came from and go back to sleep.

But they knew of the dangers of sharing a living space with something. They had, after all, shared their life with that bright light all of that time and didn't even know that it could explode and sent them into another life.

This life. Here on this blue thing, with this blue liquid, with these creatures.

They all watched, unblinking and unmoving as Keir broke their ranks and started to slowly step closer to the creature.

Even though Keir was old, he still moved with a fluidity of darkness, his long, thin legs walking through the sinking sand with grace and ease that made the creature stare at him with big eyes wide open.

When Keir came close enough to touch, the creature raised up a long stick with a sharp tip at the end, and pointed it right at their oldest.

But Keir was faster and his long, thin blue finger penetrated right though the creatures lower right side so quickly, it caught the creature completely unprepared. It took some water hitting the sand for the creature to start making hideous noises; howls and screams they'd only ever heard when the light separated them. They wanted the horrible sound to stop, _make it stop, Elder!_

The creature started to trash on Keir's finger, but the oldest of them was strong and held the creature in place even through its flailing arms.

They couldn't look away from what was happening, couldn't not look as the creature fell to the ground when Keir removed the finger and raised it up to his eyes.

It was red. There was red liquid running down the long, thin blue finger making it look absolutely magnificent. They couldn't remove their eyes from it and they begged Keir to come nearer so that they could see.

Their oldest raised the finger, its tip pointed up to the sky and they all marveled at it.

"It is warm." He had said, awe in his voice and they called him back to his ranks, begged him to step back into their line and link his two hands with theirs.

"It is warm." He'd repeated and brought his finger closer to his sparkling eyes.

They saw, they felt, that they were losing him. He had been enchanted. He had been stolen from them by that red liquid.

"Keir!"

They had said. They had screamed. They had wailed when Keir started to crumble before their very eyes. The sparkling crystals were starting to fall off of him, chipping away from his head down his arms and legs. Blue, green crystals falling to the wet sand. The sound of breaking made them wail even harder as they tried to overpower the noise of their oldest dying with their crystals breaking.

"Keir!"

They wept and Jared couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't watch his Father crumble like this.

Here, at this place that had no name.

Here, at this place that wasn't even their true home.

Here, where it was so bright and warm and had the endless water and sand.

Here, where creatures lived who were warm inside.

Not here of all places. He couldn't watch his Father's radiant crystals break into pieces like this.

He couldn't watch his Father perish.

"Father! Father!"

His voice was many voices, his word was many words, but when he shook lose the hard grip his brother and his sister had on his hands and made a step towards his Father … he was one. He was one piece of many.

He was alone. And it felt … different. He felt just as he did when he found himself floating among all those glittering dots of light after the light took away their home.

He didn't know what the feeling was, how to name it. If to name it at all, because some emotions, some things just are. Exist even completely nameless.

Later, much later, he would be able to put a name to the feeling.

Freedom.

But right now … he had to go to his Father.

"Father."

The voice was his own, deep and strong, the word was his own, full of grief and sorrow.

He tried to touch his Father's solid form, but the crystals were falling off of his Father and all he could do was push his hands straight through them.

They were sharp, some big, some small, some barely there, but when they hit his crystal form, they embedded themselves into his arm. His own crystals took his Father's and pushed themselves into him.

"Son …"

That was the very last word he had ever heard from his Father. But he had him inside of him now. He had his Father's knowledge and wisdom, his Father's memories and dreams.

His Father would never be away from him.

"Jared!"

He turned around to his brothers and sisters who were standing in a straight line all along the sandy shore, left and right as far as his eyes could see in the glaring sun.

There was the huge amount of water behind them, moving forward and backward, there was a sky blue as all of them above him and his Father's love inside of him.

He was their leader now. He was their elder now.

He was the one to guide them from now on. It was his duty. He had his Father's desires inside of him and he would take his brothers and sisters back to where they came from and they'd go back to sleep.

He knew what his Father had done to the creature and he'd make use of it.

He wouldn't let it go to waste, as it was his Father's last good deed for his sons and daughters.

"We will go back. And sleep."

He stood tall; long legs and long arms, slim waist and broad shoulders – he was to be listened now. Obeyed.

"Yes, Jared."

He walked back to the line and gripped his sisters tight, intertwining his fingers with theirs.

The current brought them back to where they'd woken up.

                                                                           

That was the first time they saw a human. After that, after they went back to where they slept, they monitored those creatures through the appendage Keir had given the human.

They were able to see the humans grow, evolve, speak, talk and invent. And kill, maim, slaughter, murder, bleed.

And make love, be born, be happy and beautiful.

The learned the human languages, the human words, their talk. They saw it all through their dreams while they slept. They saw, they heard and they learned.

Until one day, their dreams were starting to get interrupted by lines of black and white dots. By noises like nothing they had ever heard before. It came and went, interruptions here and there. But it still worried them.

The humans were - as they'd learned - unpredictable, able to destroy as much as protect and build, but underneath it all, they were savages, destroyers. They had watched through their dreams forests be burned down, soil abused, the wonderful blue water poisoned.

"They are dangerous."

"Not all of them."

"All of them."

That's how the argument went ... back and forth between their linked fingers and shared dreams. Jared had no idea that one day, the argument would surpass petty bickering and become his nemesis.

The interruptions of their dreams worried them most of all and when they asked Jared, he simply said: "They found out."

Those were the words that made them all raise up, form skin all over their crystals, similar to the one the humans had. They grew fur in all the right places and walked towards the place where they knew humans would be found.

That was how they walked into the world that they had only seen and heard through their sleep.

                                                                            

They came when Jamie was seven. They came out of nowhere, or at least that was what it seemed like to everyone. They came when the Earth shook so hard buildings started to break and crumble, fall to the ground as if they were made out of thin glass. Big buildings too; the Empire State Building, the Sydney opera, the bridges across the Thames, the Eiffel Tower, three pyramids in Egypt, the leaning tower of Pisa … all collapsed into piles of stone or iron.

The Earth shook and shuddered for three minutes, three whole minutes, but they didn't know that exact time back then - that information started to come later.

The Great Earthquake of 2014 wasn't expected, wasn't a prophecy of the Mayans or Nostradamus or anything like that, so there had been really no way of preparing for it – as much as one could prepare to what most called 'nonsense'. It just … happened. One second life was same old same old and then the very next second the ground was literally swept from under some people's feet.

The White House had no idea how the hell it happened, Brussels was clueless, Kremlin didn't know, Africa, well the dictators were having a blast, while others had no clue, China said 'it was not us', North Korea said 'no', Australia was screaming for help, floods erasing towns and cities along the coastline, South America was chanting of Mayans and Incas and their prophecies and while the governments were trying to make sense of everything and all kind of scientists were having a field day, life moved on. Many turned to religion, calling upon God and angels, speaking of the apocalypse and the end of days, but it didn't help.

Truthfully, no one really knew what the heck had happened. It was a puzzle not solved by looking either up into space and seeking out an alien attack or looking at anyone on the planet, because everyone was just as clueless as everyone else.

It had been described as weird, crazy, what the hell, the apocalypse is upon us and the mildest one – strange, so strange.

But it happened. It caused some things to change, but life moved on. So what if some buildings fell and crumbled. So what if the Earth's surface cracked and spit in some places, so what if Mount St. Helens and Vesuvius and Krakatoa erupted, spewing smoke and lava everywhere, drowning acres of land in fire and darkness. So what? It didn't change the fact that economic status of some was still nonexistent, mortgages had to be paid, work and school had to be attended, wars had to go on, money had to roll in and roll out. Not many people paid that much attention on the Earth collapsing, because earthquakes happen, volcanoes explode, cracks happen.

It all just happens.

And in the state of disarray and life just carrying on, _they_ came.

One by one - not in groups - not to invade and take the Earth as their prey, as their captive. They didn't come to destroy or rule or kill everyone and everything they met. It didn't happen like it happened in the movies.

They didn't come to change anything.

Yet everything changed.

They slithered into society, like shadows. Invisible, undetectable, unseen.

They came to observe, to take notes. To live among humans.

They looked like everyone else. Looked human; with a human body, human needs.

But they weren't human.

It was when Jamie was twelve, five years after the Great Earthquake of 2014, that the Grand Canyon started to all but split North America in two, the Atlantic started to flood New York City and the entire East coast. The Pacific covered the whole of Japan, erasing it from the surface of the planet, also flooding Los Angeles and the whole of the West Coast, reaching all the way up to Nevada. Las Vegas was now a coastline city. The Sahara turned from beautiful sand into a lush jungle, Greenland and Iceland were no more, as were Hawaii, Madagascar and all the islands in the Indian Ocean.

The Earth started cracking. Started to wither, bend into something no one expected five, six years ago. Changed.

Life as it had been just six years ago, normal life of nine to five job, dinners and movies and BBQ parties and hanging on Facebook and Twitter and watching TV, watching movies and having a job, rushing down the street to the best coffee shop, making food … all that was gone like a puff of air. And it would never come back. Ever.

Because who would be able to uncrack Earth? Un-bend it? Make it whole again? Un-flood the cities, make the deserts deserts again and the Amazon a rain forest once more? Who would be able to pull islands out of the oceans again? Who would be able to raise up the Himalaya after it had collapsed onto the ground, forming nothing but small hills?

Who?

No one and especially not _them_.

They ... revealed themselves when they saw what they'd caused. They threw away their masks and people - those who survived those three minutes so long ago - saw them. Saw who, what had been hiding among them, who, what had been their neighbor, their boss, their doctor or their teacher. The guy at the counter at Walmart, the girl leading the tours at the Louvre, the person one sat next to on the bus or the subway.

They had been everywhere, and no one had known. No one had fucking known.

Of course, people started with the usual: 'How the fucking hell have I not known this?' or 'How could I have been so blind? And other blahblahblah crazy shit.

But really, deep down, people were scared, pissed, terrified, angry, betrayed. Started blaming them for everything, and people were right.

It had all been their fault. That the oceans were flooding, that the rivers were starting to disappear or worse, started to run into the other direction, that the Niagara Falls were cliffs now, no more water there, dry rocks, that the fucking ocean was reaching all the way up to Mongolia, only leaving some high places in China as lonely islands.

Simple, normal life was gone and it had all been their fault.

The Ice People's fault.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 1**

She'd crawled into an abandoned warehouse she'd spotted with the corner of her eyes, while she was trekking through the high underbrush. Her hands gripping her swollen belly, her feet sore and weak, she'd barely managed to stumble through the hole in the door and to the nearest corner. She'd needed to sit, rest and somehow get her baby into this broken world.

Her name wasn't Jamie anymore, peeps down at the sewers called her Jelly, but she didn't know why. It was okay, though, because why not? Real names didn't matter no more, when the Earth was out to kill ya and the Ice People were everywhere. They were always goddamn everywhere, always recognizable now, now that they didn't need to hide themselves anymore. They still looked like people, ordinary human beings, but their eyes, their eyes were sharp, hues of blue-green-orange-yellow-violet-red-green, depending on how the light of the sun or the moon hit them. The colors spanned all of their eyes; the pupils and the whites, leaving nothing but color of sometimes mesmerizing tones.  
  
It was all in their eyes. Once the humans started to realize that they could spot an Icy just by looking into their eyes, it was like a eureka moment for the human race, because now they knew how to spot the enemy. Didn't yet know how to kill it, but at least they knew how to spot it, turn around and run like hell. Most of the time, running didn't help, because the Icies were cunning hunters and could bring a person down in seconds.

Beside their eyes, their next 'tell' was the air of grace that always seemed to hover around them that made them so, so hated. No one who ruined life, ruined the fucking damn planet should be so graceful, so beautiful, so calm.

But they were. They were elegant in how they walked, eloquent in how they spoke, the whole air around them was always filled with serenity and calmness, the like of which no 'normal' human being had ever seen or felt.

Which was why they were dangerous as hell. Hell, probably not even Hell was as dangerous as them.

They were also sneaky, devious. They played dirty.

And they were hated, loathed for what they had done and all the hate directed to them, brought out their true nature.

Deceitful little creatures, they were.

The corner she'd crawled to, was dirty and littered with papers, but she didn't care. For all she cared, it could have hundreds and hundreds of moldy paper and dead rats lying on the ground and she'd still sit down and rest. The cold concrete wall she'd leaned on felt so good on her aching back, soothing down the tension and hours of walking. Her arms were supporting her big belly, palms rubbing circles on the hot skin, but none of that stopped the spasms and contractions. She flinched and cried out every and each time that happened; she couldn't stop it, no matter how much she bit her lip, bit her tongue, bit her whole hand. She was sixteen going on sixty and so alone, so utterly alone. There was no one she could call family, no one to really call a friend either, the guy who did this to her died five weeks ago and the people down at the sewers hadn't wanted her screams to attract the Icies, so they kicked her out. Gave her a blanket though. So ... that was okay.

Stretching her heavy legs in front of her, bending her knees just a little to dig in her heels whenever pain shot through her whole body, she stroked her taut belly, singing a song with no lyrics to her baby. It was just a melody she could hum, relaxing herself and the restless body inside of her. Didn't really know where she learned it, but it reminded her of days long gone, music long forgotten.

She wanted the child, wanted him or her - she had no way of knowing what it was, because there were no hospitals no more, there were no ultrasounds or anything like that anymore. She did visit a doctor, an elderly woman with a missing right eye, who told her it was probably a boy she was with, but whatever. The woman was a one eye quack, not really someone to be believed.

She would just see when the kid would arrive. She had a name picked out, though, something for the kid to have and own, because there was nothing to own anymore. No money, no gold, no cars, no houses. All that didn't mean anything anymore. You couldn't buy water with money, but you could buy money with water. Or food. You could buy water with a piece of bread. Or bread with a bottle of water. But money? It had no meaning, no use other than starting a fire with it, in the dead of cold nights, when fire was the only company one had. Could have. But even fire was dangerous, because if _they_ saw it, _they_ 'd come rushing and take you.

She didn't need no fire now. What she did need, was something against the fucking pain. Something to make this hurt stop. But there was nothing. No pills, no syrups, no medicine, other than straight up alcohol and she didn't want that. She wanted her baby healthy, even if she didn't know what for. Why did she want the baby to survive? To be healthy? Why? She'd asked herself that a lot of times while she was lying on a crappy, thin, dirty mattress in one of the many nooks of the sewer system, Looky - or Lemmy as his real name had been - rubbing her stomach, kissing it and telling her how beautiful she was. How beautiful them both were, how happy he was to have her, to have what she was growing inside of her.

Why? Because there was nothing on the planet worth it. It was all ruined and _they_ were ruling over it all. So why?

When another contraction hit her, she gasped: "Uhhhh, God, baby please stop," and shuddered when pain travelled all over her body, her skin feeling tight and hot even though it was chilly in the vast space of the warehouse.

She knew the kid wouldn't listen to her, wouldn't hear her and magically just stop. Although in this new day and age, stranger things had happened.

Like the Ice People. Like them getting power over the entire planet and over the entire human race. How that had happened, she still had no idea. Television didn't exactly broadcast the 6 o'clock news anymore and everything that she did hear came to her from rumors that had changed a hundred of ears and mouths before they arrived to her.

Some said that the Icies charmed their way to ruling. Some said that they killed whoever was against them. Some said that the Icies wanted to help and thus they needed total control over everything. Some said that the Ice People were the devil himself split into many, many creatures who wanted to dominate and destroy. Kill, kill, kill ... and then leave the planet in ruins and move on.

But the Ice People didn't come from space. They weren't aliens, so ... why would they want to destroy the planet, and where would they go then?

She screamed loud and long when another contraction hit her. They were coming closer together and she couldn't do this. She couldn't ... it was too much.

She knew pain, had broken her arm, leg, fingers ... had dislocated her shoulder once, but all that was before all medicine ran out.

That was before people started to pray for death, worship death, call it to take them away from this horrible, abandoned place.

She never called for death. She feared it. Even if living like this, in hiding all the time, down in the stinking, cold, moist sewers wasn't a life at all, but it was her life. Her choice. She wanted to survive and maybe, maybe one day ... maybe the Icies would put Earth back on its axis. Put the beauty back as it was before ... before they ruined everything.

She screamed again and threw her head back, hitting it on the moldy wall. She wanted to knock herself out, but she knew that the pain would just bring her back to consciousness.

She screamed again and clawed at the wall with her fingers, chipping away the once white paint. There was dust flying in the sun beams that were coming into the vast space through huge windows.

It was sunny outside. Warm. Too warm for March, but that was how it was now. Warm springs, summers cold as winters in the old days, fall hot and winters humid and rainy.

She groaned and screamed a second later, raising herself up a bit and hitting her head back against the wall again.

She was gonna die. She was gonna die with her baby still inside of her, alone and abandoned in a sun filled warehouse. She didn't wanna die. She didn't wanna die _alone_. Not alone somewhere where no one would ever find her and her baby would be dead too and fuck this world, fuck it!

"Fuuuuck it! Oh God baby!"

The contractions were coming closer and closer together, everything feeling as if she was being ripped apart and she had never been so helpless in her entire life. There was absolutely nothing for her to do but to do this. She couldn't make her body stop doing this to her. She couldn't ask anyone for help, she couldn't go outside and scream for help, because there would be no one to help her.

She was alone. So alone, here in a no name building in a no name town in a no name country, because names weren't important anymore. Real names lived only in the memories of some people, but she wasn't one of them. Maybe she should be, because then at least, she would be able to tell her baby that it was born here and here.

"Fuuuucking hell, oh damn it, oh God baby, stop hurtin'!"

She breathed in and out, fast, probably too fast to be doing her any good, but there had never been anyone who would teach her how to do this properly. Who would've told her what she'd need to do when the time would come, how to deliver a kid in a no name place. Alone.

She had no one but her baby and herself to rely on. And a huge room with barred windows up high on the opposite wall. The sun was being covered by years and years of grime on the window's glass and clouds. So many beautiful white clouds, but the warmth of the sun was still something she could feel on her face.

It was warm and it was cold, _she_ felt warm and cold, hot and cool, sweat dripping down her face onto her dirty T-shirt. The shirt … it had belonged to the baby's dad and when he'd died, she'd kept it. Found it lying abandoned in the corner between their bed and a small closet and she … she had to have it. Wanted her baby to have something of its father too. Wanted herself to have something of her sweet, sweet love too.

When she thought about it now, it was stupid and she felt dumb. The kid would never know its dad, never and all she would ever be able to offer it, would be its dad's shirt?

She screamed again and clutched at the shirt, using it as leverage when the pain made her bend forward. There were probably small rips in the shirt's fabric by now, but she didn't care.

Babbling between breaths and moans: "Baby, please, please, please, oh God, oh God…" and pain shooting up her back and belly, her screams echoing through the vast empty space, she knew, she damn well knew that she should be quiet, swallow down the sounds that came out of her even without her knowing, but she couldn't. One couldn't stop a sound if it caught one by surprise. And pain was always filled with sounds, they came hand in hand like lovers.

Pain and sound. Romeo and Juliet. She read that book, didn't like it, but maybe now ... she understood.

She was making too much noise, but she couldn't stop. She'd walked as far away from the city as she could, and found this old plant or a warehouse or whatever and crawled inside ... but ... but one never knew where the Icies would be. Where they would be walking or patrolling or seeking out humans to do ... whatever they did with them. It was all rumors again, hand me downs from hundreds of people, about the Ice People taking humans who were never seen after that and doing experiments on them, killing them, sending them to Antarctica or the Arctic, depending on their mood.

Because that was their home. That was where they came from. They came from underneath the ice. Ice that had been on the poles for millions of years, keeping them hidden from humans, keeping them locked under all that unimaginable mass of white, cold ice. But they broke through it, somehow - she always thought global warming had a hand with it, but again, all theories, no facts - and ripping the world to shreds in the process.

No one thought that evil was lurking so close to them, right under everyone's noses. Right there on the poles. In the days before _them_ , grownups would tell their kids that Santa lived there, with the elves with pointy ears making toys and Mrs. Santa cooking cocoa for everyone.

Wrong.

Evil lived there, under the ice, under the water. Hidden for so long, probably from the very second Earth was formed.

No one knew exactly and no one really dared to ask one of the Ice People about their ... about how they came to be. No one cared really, because when something like that happened and tilted everyone's world upside down, no one had time for those questions. There was only time for survival.

                                                                                                                                                     

She hated them. She did. They took her life away. Took her parents away from her. Made her have a baby all alone in the middle of thick dust and smell of iron.

Screaming and crying she realized that she was going to die. She was going to die. She didn't want to die. She didn't want her baby to die. She didn't want them to live either. Not in a world like this. She was only sixteen, this was not what was supposed to happen to girls at sixteen.

She sobbed into her dirty, wet hands, sobbed so hard she couldn't catch enough air and her lungs started to burn. It wasn't fair, it wasn't … she started gasping for air, grabbing at her throat when a hand stroked her leg - knee to her swollen ankle and she froze.

"You need to breathe, sweetheart."

Brown eyes that shifted into specks of blue and orange and yellow and bright green. Then orange and blue and green and then brown again. She was getting dizzy, the sun beams making the man's eyes a kaleidoscope of colors; some she had never even seen before. Brownbluegreenorangeyellow, blueorangebrown ... one blue, one brown, then green and bright blue...

The calm that pierced her like a lightning bolt made her take a deep, steady breath but the pain was still there, relentless, unforgiving, ripping her apart.

Closing her eyes, she screamed again. It didn't matter now how much or how loud she screamed. They had found her.

She snapped her eyes open, flinching at the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks … they were a sign of weakness and she shouldn't be showing weakness in front of one of _them_. One shouldn't be weak in front of the Ice People, because that caused them to laugh and kill slower – or so the rumors went.

"You're one," she swallowed and rubbed her belly, "... one of 'em."

She grunted. The baby was ... coming. Close. So close. She had been at this for a while now, almost an entire day and a few hours of last night and she was so tired. Tired down to her bones, all of her muscles aching, stretching, burning ...

"Yeah I am, but it's okay. 'm not gonna hurt you."

"I don't ..." she gasped and gritted her teeth through another scream that wanted to erupt from her, "please don't kill me, pleeeeease, aaaaagh, oh God!"

"I won't, shh, shh, 'm not gonna hurt you."

His hand was still rubbing her calf, making her press into the touch.

"Please, don't … don't hurt my baby."

She didn't want the man to kill her. Didn't want the man to kill her baby. She didn't worship death like some of the other humans did.

People had said that the Icies killed and tortured and did _things_ to humans, but then there were also the more obscure rumors that told how the Ice People were kind and tried to help too … she was so confused. So confused, but she didn't want to find out what the truth was. This wasn't the time for the truth.

"Please don't hurt me. Stay away, please, please stay away…" she tried to scramble away from him, but there was nowhere for her to go, unless she'd go into the wall itself … she was trapped. Like a bleeding, wounded animal for the monster to tear apart and swallow down.

"I won't, sweetie, I really won't. I'm not … 'm not … I'm not one of them."

She flinched at how he spat out the word _them_ ; as if he wasn't one of them, as if he didn't belong to them, as if she was blind and stupid. He was one of them, he was one of the Ice People, he couldn't fool her. Now that she knew what signs to look for; the eyes, the voice, the graceful manner with which the Ice People carried themselves, the smell of calm surrounding them like perfume … this man had all of that and more, because his face was the kindest she had ever seen. Human and Icies.

"Don't … lie… fuuuuuuck!" this contraction was sharper, longer than all the others and when she'd managed to catch her breath, she heard the man sigh and shake his head, making his long brown hair fall into his eyes.

"I'm not lying, sweetheart. I know… listen, I know you have no reason to trust me, I know that, but 'm here to help, okay? 'm here to help and I promise you, I won't hurt you. Or your baby. And I won't let anyone else hurt you both either."

The sob that came out of her mouth instead of a scream surprised her. So weak. She was so weak … and in front of this man. In front of one of them. But he was so … smooth in his words and in his actions and before she knew it, his palm was on her tight belly, rubbing it with a steady pressure that didn't hurt. Didn't hurt like everything else did.

It felt as if someone shot her up with a tranquilizer; just like that one time when Odie said that when one of _them_ touched him, he felt as if he was floating. But Odie was a bit disturbed in the head, so no one believed him, but right now … right now, she believed him.

It didn't feel as if she was floating, but it did feel nice. Really nice.

"It's a boy, huh?"

"Wha-?"

"It's a boy, didn't you know that?"

"N-no."

She stuttered through a groan and a half sob. She didn't know. Not for sure, the old woman just said maybe, perhaps, thirty percent chance of it being a boy. The woman had been a quack.

"Well," he smiled and tapped her huge belly right below her belly button with a gentle finger, "it is a boy."

He sounded so sure. He sounded so collected, his voice smooth as glass … his face open and showing no malice at all.

But … but that's how the Icies operated. They were smooth talkers and charmers until they stabbed you in the gut.

She pushed his hand away from her belly, skin touching skin and she shouted – the mixed feeling of sharp pain and sharp calmness too much for her nerves to handle. It hurt but it felt amazing but it was confusing as hell and it made her slam her aching back on the moldy, cold concrete wall. She closed her eyes, imagining all the gruesome ways the man could kill her. Cut out her baby and leave her open and bleeding in this abandoned nowhere place, where she'd rot until she'd turn into bones to be added to the already existing dust in this place.

"What's your name?"

"Why do you care?" she grunted.

"Please."

Looking at him, she felt as if she could not tell a lie. Fucking weird.

"Jelly." She whispered and swallowed down what little spit she had.

"Your real name?"

Through tear filled eyes she saw the man shift even closer to her, kneeling between her spread legs now and even though she tried to close them, she couldn't. Her body was demanding this position and she knew that she shouldn't deny what her body was telling her. That old woman had told her that, when she gave her some advice about when the time would come but looking back on that short conversation, the woman really was a quack with her only advice being 'do as your body tells you to do'.

What a quack.

"Don't close your legs, Jelly."

It was a softly voiced order, and even though she had spat in the face of orders and demands her entire life, this one she had to obey. There was no other choice, because the man was right and she knew that she could damage her baby doing otherwise. And that was the last thing she wanted to do. A damaged child was as good as dead in this world. Who would keep it safe? Who would raise it?

"What's your real name, Jelly?"

She flinched when she felt the man place his hands on her knees and push them further apart. She looked there; her knees were so small compared to the man's big palms, it made her realize even more that the man really could snap her neck like a twig.

"You first."

The man's smile … he had dimples. It was such a human thing to have, dimples and wrinkles and a smile that was genuine and gentle and not directed at her but to her … it made something in her heart pinch.

"Sam. Name's Sam."

It wasn't. It was Jared, but she didn't need to know that. No one needed to know that, because his name was a beacon and a salvation and he didn't need either of them to find him right then.

Especially not then.

"Jamie."

"Jamie's a beautiful name. Why hide it?"

She tried to scoff - because why? Why? Because names had no meaning anymore. Because a real name was a relic of old times. Because a real name could even get someone killed - but her scoff came out as a grunt and a scream and she bend forward grabbing the man's – Sam's – forearms with her hands, digging her nails into his skin.

This was getting to be too much; she was weak, she felt herself be so, so weak and tired, so tired that she didn't even notice anymore the serenity that was flowing from his arm to her palm.

"You're okay, sweetie, you're okay Jamie. Just breathe, just breathe. Just breathe, just calm down, come on sweetie. That's it, that's it…"

She fell back to the wall, hitting it with her aching back, not even feeling the hard surface anymore. Everything felt fuzzy and looked fuzzy and sounded fuzzy.

"Jamie, how long've you been at it?"

The huge, empty space was spinning, the windows coming closer and getting further away and coming closer again and the sun was fading into orange light and her baby was … she was having a baby.

"Jamie!"

Raising her head – when had it fallen down to her chest? – she looked at Sam.

"Jamie, how long have you been at this?"

"H—hours. D-d-days."

It felt like a day to her, maybe longer? Days? Maybe less? But hours for sure.

"Jamie, I know you're tired, but I think your baby is coming."

She nodded, because yeah, she … she could feel it … there was something …

She needed to push.

"I have … I have to…" she started to claw at the wall behind her, raising her hips up and down, desperate to do something. To push, to go where her body wanted her to go.

"I know, come on, let's take off your pants. Its okay, 's okay."

Blinking her eyes, she tried to look at the man through the tears that were clinging to her eyelashes but all she could see was a blurry glob crouching between her spread legs. A blurry glob that was one of them, one of them and he was going to kill her.

"Jamie …"

Couldn't breathe. Needed to breathe to chase away the black spots that were starting to appear before her eyes.

Then there were hands on her cheeks; big palms feeling cool on her hot and wet cheeks.

Cooling her down, chasing away the black spots so that she was once again able to see the setting sun. Able to breathe in and out without feeling like her lungs had packed up their bags and moved away. Able to see Sam leaning forward, his face inches from hers and his lips moving, forming words.

And there was that tranquilizer again. She could drown in it; it was like the coolest, calmest water running down her hurting muscles.

"Jamie, you need to calm down and breathe."

She nodded, because yes, she needed to do that. And she was doing that.

"Good. Now we're gonna pull your pants down and then you'll get your boy into this world and I promise you, Jamie, I promise you he's gonna be just fine."

She nodded again and allowed for her head to sag into Sam's hands. They were cooling down her skin, getting her to be more alert, calmer, better. Stronger.

"Okay…" she whispered and chased after the retreating palms, smiling a little in embarrassment when Sam smiled knowingly.

"We … we're cold only if we want to be."

It made sense. They'd been passing of as humans for a long time, and if they'd be cool all the time, people might've started noticing sooner. She bit her lip and nodded, leaning back to the wall and raising her aching hips to allow Sam to pull down her jeans.

They were stolen. The jeans. She'd seen them hanging off a clothesline and she'd had to have them. Her old clothes had been starting to get too small and she'd needed something bigger, something that didn't feel so tight across her belly. Stealing wasn't a crime anymore. Stealing was a way of survival. No regrets, no apologies.

She looked at Sam, blushing so hard, she could feel her cheeks heat up even more – no other man had ever seen her like this, naked, exposed and vulnerable, except Looky. She had loved him and he had loved her, it wasn't just … a fuck and bye bye, girl kinda thing … it was love. And she missed him, every goddamn day, she missed him and she wanted him here beside her. He should've been here beside her, but this fucked up world took him away. Humans took him away from her, killing him, because he'd had three bottles of water in his hands. Because she had been thirsty. And they'd killed him for them.

She wanted to blame the Ice People for his death, but couldn't. Because it wasn't them who had killed her love. It was humans. Ordinary humans. Ordinary monsters.

The stream of tears that all of a sudden started to run down her cheeks surprised her. She hadn't cried for Looky when the news of his death had come to her – after a day of fuming over where the fuck he was – she'd just felt numb at the time. Completely numb, one hand rubbing her big belly, missing his hands and the other clutching his T-shirt.

She had cried later. A day later, when her heart caught up with her brain and she'd cried into mad man Odie's shirt, wailing for Looky.

Her baby was the only 'thing' she had of Looky. And the shirt. There were no pictures of him, no items she could carry around in memory, nothing. Just the feel of his touches and kisses and how he felt inside of her.

She … she would die for her baby. For her baby boy, if Sam was to be believed.

"Sam…"

She gasped when cold air hit her bare skin and brought her back to the here and now. To the way her body felt stretched to its limits, to the way her baby felt inside of her, trying to get out into this godforsaken world.

"Do you wanna get up? On your hands and knees? Or stand up? Hmm, Jamie, come on, might be easier."

No, no she didn't want any of that. She could barely do this …

Whimpering: "No, p-p-please…" she leaned forward and gripped Sam's forearm again, stopping him. She couldn't do this. She couldn't allow this man to do this.

Fear the likes she had never, ever felt before in her life - not even when the Earth shook for three minutes straight and then went down the rabbit hole – started to flow through her veins. She couldn't do this.

She couldn't. Exhaustion, pain, fear, one of the Ice People being here with her, were all reasons she wanted to be far, far away from here.

"I know, Jamie. It's okay. It's all right to be scared."

The man slipped his arm from underneath her trembling fingers and gripped her hand, squeezing hard, but not too hard. He was being careful, for what she didn't know. Because the way she saw it, he could just have been buying time, getting under her skin, getting her to trust him and then she'd have her baby and the man would kill her and run away with her baby. Or worse; kill them both.

"It's all right."

But his eyes, his face … the softness, the concentration, the pure honesty there – no, no, no one could trust the Icies.

There was just no way.

Was there?

Perhaps … perhaps not all of them were bad. She'd heard stories of Ice People – the stories were rare and very far between and told in hushed voices, as if they were secrets and fairytales – who helped people, who did good, who promised something and then delivered, who didn't kill or maim anyone, but helped them. Maybe Odie was right.

Oh dear God …

"S-s-sam, why … wh-why're you helpin' me?"

She needed to know, she needed to make some sense of this, she needed answers. Sam didn't act like the rest of the Ice People, he didn't try to hurt her – yet - he was helping her, he was nice and deep down, very deep down under layers of stories of how horrible Icies were … she could feel him be a good 'person'.

His eyes, when he looked at her were shining bright green and a little smile formed dimples on his cheeks as he shrugged: "We're not all bad. Some of us … we're still researchers, observers."

"You?"

"I'm a … a scientist. I observe."

"Us?"

His smile this time was meant to hide things, but it wasn't evil. It was just a shrug and a smile.

"I think your baby wants to meet you."

Before she could question that, she could feel it.

She screamed and didn't even flinch this time when Sam's hands started to rub her shaking calves, placing her hands under her knees and telling her to hold on. There was nothing else on her mind then but her baby. Her baby boy that she'd meet soon.

Really, really soon.

"I need to puuuuuuuuuush!"

Her baby boy was coming. Her baby. Hers and Looky's. She was just sixteen in a fucked up world, with monsters ruling half the planet and humans that were slowly turning into monsters too and how … what … how would she take care of her baby? All alone?

"Stop pushing, stop, Jamie!"

"I caaaaan't!"

She couldn't. She had to push, her body was screaming at her to push and there was no one gonna tell her – least of all one of them – that she shouldn't push.

She gritted her teeth and pushed and screamed when it burned, burned so badly and then something stung – a really quick, sharp sting – and then she could feel her baby's head.

"The head's out, come on now, Jamie. Come on, you're doing so good sweetheart."

The screams being ripped out of her mouth would haunt her until the end of her days.

"Breathe, breathe, come on, put your leg on my shoulder, brace yourself, 's okay. Push, come on, push Jamie!"

There was no way for her not to obey that, because her baby …

Her baby…

… was crying.

And she cried with it.

For it.

"Here, wanna hold him?"

There was no strength in her anymore. Her hands were lying broken and spent on her belly, as if the last push broke every bone in her body. Her head was hurting and the black spots were back and everything … everything smelled of rusty nails and piss and the sewers. She knew that smell very well, but she was too spent to feel embarrassed about it. All that she could think about was her baby boy, who looked so small in Sam's hands. Wiggling and crying but still so beautiful.

"'m gonna help you, all right? Here we go."

Her baby was all blood and gunk, wrinkles and gray skin that was slowly turning pink. It had a small patch of hair, ten fingers and ten toes and it was absolutely the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She couldn't hold it, couldn't find the strength to lift up her hands, and she was grateful to Sam for keeping one of his hands on the baby's side, helping to hold her boy on her chest and putting her hands on its belly. The squirming body was cold to the touch but she knew her body heat would take care of that.

"Do you have a name?"

He was so beautiful, even covered in blood and crap, he was beautiful. His eyes were big and green, just like Looky's had been and …

"Jensen. Jensen."

Even if names were relics of old times, she wanted – despite everything – her baby to have some of that. Old times.

"It's a beautiful name."

"He's beautiful."

"He is."

She smiled when Jensen gripped her finger with his tiny, wrinkly fingers: "Hey, baby."

She wished he could talk and curse her out right then and there, for getting him into this fucked up world.

"'m so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry…" she whispered, leaned her head to the wall and gripped her baby's tiny hand into hers, "'m so sorry."

Then she gasped, because there was still something …

"Ow, Sam … Sam … hurts, Saaaaaam!"

"It's okay, it's all right, it's just the afterbirth. It's okay, just push, okay."

"I can't…"

"Jamie, come on…"

Closing her eyes, she tried to pull her baby closer to her chest, her breasts hurting, wanting to do their job, and breathed out when a squelching sound penetrated her ears.

"'s all good now, Jamie. You did so good, sweetheart."

No one had ever told her – least of all that quack of a doctor – just how gross all of this would be. Just how painful it would be. If she had known, she'd never ever let Looky get near her.

But it was all over now. She had done it and her baby boy was in her arms, his tiny hand in her bigger one. She had done it, with the help of one of them, one of the Icies and fucking hell … never in her most crazy dreams had she ever imagined that this would be how she'd have her baby. Never. Ever.

And then it hit her. Just like that, out of the blue, as if someone flipped a switch in her head …

"'m gonna die, aren't I?"

The words felt like a dirty little secret on her tongue, so she whispered them and looked at the man kneeling between her still spread legs.

It didn't feel awkward anymore, she didn't feel mortified anymore. Let him see, it didn't matter anymore. There was no room for shame in death.

"I'm sorry…"

Sam's voice was a slow whisper, a drawled out apology for something that wasn't his fault. There were tears glistening in the man's eyes, she could see them in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Tears. The man … was crying. One of the Ice People – crying. She wanted to touch his tears. Wanted to feel if they were cold, if they felt like glass, if they were even wet.

"'m so sorry, Jamie. I can't … I can't stop the bleeding. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

The sun would drag her down with it and maybe, maybe take her to Looky and she would be able to tell him just how perfect their son was.

Their son that was looking up at her, with big wide open eyes as if he understood everything that had been said. As if he understood that his mommy would die soon.

She could feel herself fading so she clutched her boy tighter to her chest and cried down at his scrunched up face.

Saying goodbye.

She looked up from her greatest – and only – good thing she had ever done when she heard Sam move closer to her. He was slowly sliding down the wall on her right side, making her push herself deeper into the corner. He was too close, he … he was going to kill her now. She knew it – they weren't to be trusted. They were killers and he was going to kill her now, before her own body would.

"Hey, Jensen. Hey little fella … how are you?"

That … was not what she expected. She didn't expect Sam to start playing with Jensen's tiny arms or tickling his nose or rubbing the little patch of hair on Jensen's head. What she expected was, well, Sam trying to tug Jensen out of her arms and run.

"He's got strong lungs. He's gonna be really strong when he'll grow up."

"Do you … know that or…"

"I … I don't … he just looks like he'll be really strong. He has a strong mom."

That … was not what she expected either. This man was … nothing what the stories told of the Icies. Nothing. At. All.

"T-t-thank you, I, uh, guess."

The man laughed. Not just smiled, but laughed as if she just said the funniest joke.

Such a strange man, he was.

She inched closer to him; didn't know why, maybe it was that weird magnetism all these Icies had, this serenity and calmness they were surrounded with - like some people smelled of perfume or deodorant back in the day, the Ice People reeked of calm. Of peace.

"'s okay, Jamie."

More tears joined the mixture of sweat, tears, spit and snot that was already running down her cheeks and chin and she let herself fall onto Sam, her head hitting his chest. Jensen's head fell into the man's lap and he cupped it with one of his hands. Protecting her baby from harm.

She wanted Sam to kill her. She … she wanted that. She wanted Sam to put her out of her misery, pain and terror.

Fast. She thought that Sam would do it fast and painless. He seemed like a fast and painless kinda man and not at all like her body, which was killing her slowly. She … she knew she was bleeding out. Could feel her legs being soaked with blood, could feel it run under her butt and down to her feet. She would die in a puddle of her own blood.

"Tell me … w-why. P-please before I … just, just tell me w-why you screwed up this world. P-please…" she sobbed into Sam's shirt, listening to the man's heart beat. They apparently had a heart, even if it was beating really, really slow - but what was having a heart good for, if you didn't use it. Having a heart, didn't stop the Icies from destroying the world.

Sam sighed and his breath tickled the top of her head: "Some of us … they lost their way, Jamie. Fear," his hand stroking her greasy and wet hair made all her pain just melt away, "made them loose their way. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Jamie."

She understood how it was, when fear took over and messed up people's minds. Fear, greed, lust, envy, _fearfearfear_ … the new world changed all of them. Humans and Ice People alike.

"I don't wanna die." she whispered and shook her head, wiping her tears into Sam's shirt. She didn't want to die. The world, as fucked up as it was, had Sam in it now, who was nothing like what she was made to believe the Ice People were, who was a mystery she needed to crack.

And it had Jensen. It had her sweet, beautiful baby boy now and she didn't want to let him go. Didn't want to lose the feeling of the warm, squirming body in her hands.

She looked down at her baby, who had gotten quiet under the gentle, circular motions Sam's fingers were making on Jensen's forehead.

"Jensen…"

She wailed and hid her face into Sam's shirt again. She couldn't look into Jensen's big, green eyes and see all the moments that she'd miss: she wanted to see Jensen grow up, make his first steps, see him smile, she wanted to see him become a man, she wanted to hear him say 'mommy'.

"I know, but it's all right. It is …"

"J-j-jensen…"

"He … he'll be okay. Trust me. He'll be just fine."

"Tak-ke c-care of him … p-please, c-can you," she breathed and tried to form words through her closing throat, through her fuzzy brain, "… can you w-wrap him in my t-shirt? P-please. Once I … please, S-sssam."

"I will, Jamie, I promise. It's okay, shhh, shhh sweetie, it's all right."

She was fading, black spots dancing in the orange light, the sun getting lower and lower behind the dirty windows, her body slipping, shutting down, the smell of rust in the air making her nauseated, but she couldn't do anything but let her arms fall down to her sides, leaving Jensen lying half on her chest and half in Sam's lap. At least he wasn't all alone as she had feared he would be when she crawled into this dump. As she had feared for weeks before this day.

He wasn't alone. She wasn't alone.

The last thing she felt – beside the comforting weight of her baby boy – was Sam's cool palm on her forehead and his voice whispering: "Just go to sleep, Jamie. Everything is all right here. Jensen is all right."

She didn't hear the crack her neck made when Sam broke it, twisted it until it snapped. What she did hear was her baby boy making spit bubbles with his lips.

He kissed the top of Jamie's head, her hair slick with sweat: "I'm so sorry sweetheart, so sorry," and pressed her dead weight closer to him, shielding her face from the eyes of her child. Even if Jensen was only a couple of minutes old, there was no need for him to see his mom's dead eyes.

"So sorry, Jamie…" he stroked her hair and hid her loose head closer to his chest … he was sorry, he was so, so sorry, this was never supposed to have happened. All of this, any of this. This planet, all its people … he was so sorry, but being sorry wouldn't change anything.

From her dead arms, Jensen stared up at him with big, watery green eyes and a small, wrinkly finger stuck between pink, spit covered lips.

"Hey buddy…" he smiled and wondered what now.

 

Jared held the baby, snuggly wrapped into his mom's shirt: "You're gonna be just fine Jensen."

He looked at Jamie; he covered her with a blanket he had found in one of the offices in this place and already called for one of his brothers to come take care of the body. She would get a proper burial, just like she deserved.

"Your mommy was so brave, Jensen. You're gonna grow up brave too, huh? Strong too, right? You're gonna be just fine. Don't cry, come on, shhh, shhh, don't cry."

He bounced Jensen a little in his arms and cooed, making the boy stop crying. The baby looked up at him with huge, green watery eyes, his tiny arms twisting away from his mom's shirt that was wrapped around his small body and reaching up to Jared's face, hitting his chin.

"Your eyes ... green like ice ..."

The night greeted them both with a hoot of an owl.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 2**

The world was dying; bleeding through the cracks of wrongness the Ice People had brought with them almost thirty years ago, now. A long, long time for the Earth to be dying. The cities were just skeletons of iron, steel, concrete and wood, all rotten and twisted, gnarly and decayed. Jensen didn't know how it all had been before, but walking through the abandoned streets, overgrown with grass, trees, bushes and weed, he could imagine how magnificent the buildings had been. How tall, how wonderful, how populated.

Where there were nothing but ruins now, he could imagine the beauty of it all. Imagination was all he had now, as there were not a lot of pictures of the old world, not much pictures of how it had all looked like. But when he closed his eyes, he could see. Feel. Sometimes, he could even hear echoes of people walking down streets; talking, breathing or just the _taptaptap_ of their shoes on the concrete pavements. Could hear the car engines, honking and breaks squealing. He didn't really know how those noises sounded like, not really, but he could imagine. It wasn't that hard to imagine streets be clean and full of people and cars.

But it was all dead now. None of that existed anymore, people were scared and living in the old sewers or subway tunnels or up high in the mountains, secluded. Alone.

Everything was dead and one shouldn't be scared of death in this brave new world. Shouldn't be terrified of it, as people had been in the past, in that old world where birds still sang on tree branches and the grass was green and swaying in the fresh breeze – or that was what he heard anyway. Some of the people still remembered the old days. Some still spoke of them with a wistful voice and tears in their eyes. Talked about movies, music, internet that had connected the whole world once. Talked about television and radio and how they used to meet up in bars with a glass of beer or wine and how fucking awesome all that had been.

Jensen … hadn't known all that as he was a child of the here and now. He was a child of smuggling water bottles, stealing food, running for your life. Killing for your life.

Death was a mercy here, now. It was that one thing that people looked forward to, raised their hands up to the sky and screamed for. One should pray for it, be it quick and painless, or dragged out and hurting like hell.

But Jensen was terrified.

He didn't want to die, didn't want to leave this world, because he was used to it. Knew its tells, knew what made it tick, knew its nooks and crannies.

He didn't know where he would end up once he'd die. What if that world would be ... more terrifying than this one? Uglier? Scarier? More painful to be in, look at? He was terrified of death, he wasn't scared of life, like everyone else seemed to be.

He walked the streets of the city – it wasn't a city anymore, but ruins, ruins everywhere he looked - hunched on himself, hands stuffed in the shallow pockets of his black hoodie, eyes stuck on the ground, sneakers moving fast and efficient across all of the raised asphalt, all the holes and cracks in the pavement.

He didn't want to be seen. Heard. Noticed. Because he was scared of humans, he was terrified of them, as they were all killers, thieves, rapists and liars. Deceivers. No one could be trusted because they could either be the Icies or just ordinary humans that this world had corrupted and made them … even worse than the Ice People.

It was a Saturday. They still counted days, still counted years, still named the days in the week, even if names had lost their meaning and usefulness ages ago.

But somehow, the names of the days stayed.

Saturday. Some of the old folk told him how Saturdays were barbeque days. He didn't know what a barbeque was, but it sounded kinda great. Meat always sounded great. There wasn't much of it to have now, only if one was really, really lucky and knew how to use a bow or set up really good traps, otherwise meat was really hard to come by.

They mostly ate vegetables, fruits … things that they could grow indoors or could find outdoors. But searching for food outdoors was a risky business, one could get caught by the Icies or killed by humans just. like. that.

Jensen was walking down the same street he always did when he was returning from the sewers, where he had gone to 'shop' for food. The people down there ran a business of food and drinks; could get a lot there, for the right price of course.

He got six apples, two loaves of bread and even twelve pieces of some sort of salami – it looked pink, almost neon pink, but it was food - for two bottles of water. It was a good deal and the food should last him for two or three days, depending on if he'd go hunting or not.

He should make more arrows.

The wind was sharp and cold, whipping his face making him hide his neck in the hoodie and bring his shoulders up. Damn Friday rains always making the Saturdays windy, cloudy and cool. Stupid Fridays and their stupid rain.

The old sneakers he'd had for a few years now were _taptaptap_ -ing on the wet pavement that was full of cracks where grass and other weed had started growing a long time ago. He had to be very careful where he stepped; he couldn't risk a broken ankle or a broken leg.

That … that would be certain death in excruciating pain, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost.

Really, Jensen wasn't one of the crowd. Death sounded horrible to him, death was what took his mom when he had been a baby and the woman who had taken him in and raised him until he was thirteen. Death wasn't his friend.

All he wanted to do was live and survive and throughout the years he had taught himself how to do so. A bow and a knife were his two best friends, he came upon a gun when he'd been fourteen but it ran out of bullets two years later and after bashing a man's head in with the butt of it, he'd left it lying there in the growing puddle of the man's blood. He missed that gun.

But he'd made himself a bow out of some bendy wood he'd found while trekking through the forest to get to the city and it was now his best friend. Arrows were easy to make and if the bow broke he could easily make another one.

The same went for his knife; all he had to do there was sharpen and clean it. Nothing to it.

And every night he fell asleep with the knife under his pillow and the bow hugged close to him like … a lover.

Jensen stepped over a crack in the pavement that was spewing out some high, dried grass and reached for his knife he always carried in his thigh holster; it was easy access and the feeling of its weight pressed so close to his body made him walk the dangerous streets with more confidence. His bow was strapped to his back, but whoever was following him was already way too close to reach for his bow and an arrow out of the quiver. The knife would have to do.

He pulled it out of the holster and spun around swiftly, the very, very sharp blade of the knife nicking at the man's vulnerable neck. There was blood already welling up from the cut and the guy stopped, raising his head up high trying to get some space between his jugular and the knife.

"What do you want?" Jensen hissed and pressed the knife even closer to the guy's throat, making even more blood appear.

"Your food."

The guy's voice was strained, which was understandable when one's neck was stretched so high and tilted back, trying to escape the knife.

"Well, you can't have my food."

He pulled the knife against the man's neck, barely avoiding the spray of blood that gushed out of the slit open throat.

The man had been one of them; one of the people who worshiped death, Jensen could see it in the guy's eyes. There was absolutely no fear in them and the stranger hadn't even flinched at the pain the two nicks had caused. Really, he did the guy a favor.

Jensen cleaned the silver knife on the man's threadbare shirt, slid it back into the holster, checked the food inside of his hoodie's pockets and turned around.

He needed to get to the house he was "living" in before nightfall.

Jensen had no home, nothing to call his own, not really, since staying at one place was dangerous. It would get him noticed, either by humans or the Ice People and he didn't want that. Both were fucking psychos, humans more so than the Icies and he really didn't need to run into them any more than he strictly had to.

He had to meet up with humans occasionally – even if he didn't like it – to get food and water and the Icies were ... still a goddamn mystery, even after so many years. He had met all of five Icies in his life, killing three of them while two … he ran away from. He couldn't … he had been too inexperienced to take them on. Too young. Too scared.

Fucking assholes was what they were. Everyone. All of them.

He shrugged his shoulders just to feel the comforting pressure of the strap of his bow and quiver. It was all there, just like his knife against his thigh. He was safe and he pulled the hood over his head again, hiding himself. No one needed to see him and if someone did, they'd be dead before they'd hit the ground. He was tired, which made him grumpy and he was hungry and sleepy too, which didn't make the matters any better.

Just a few more minutes and he would be able to lock himself into a pretty run down house and cross off another day of his 'life' list.

The house really was just walls that had tumbled down at some point but not all the way to the ground. They just kinda folded up and got stuck on one another, supporting themselves and the roof. When he'd seen it first, he'd walked right by, discarding it as something that could kill him in the blink of an eye. But then ... something had pulled him closer to the structure. He'd stood by a tree - spruce tree - that was growing in the front yard and just stared at the neatly folded walls, at the solidness of it all. It had felt safe, felt like he could go in and be safe, because everyone else would probably walk by it just as he had at first.

So he'd gone in and that had been five days ago, which was totally pushing his luck. Five days at the same place? It was just calling for something to happen.

He knew it, knew he should find a new place to live in for a day or two, but this house, these walls, the rooms inside, all the space that he could easily defend ... it was making him stay.

So he stayed and even now when he pushed the heavy stone block across the entrance, all but sealing himself into the house, he couldn't think of anything else but ... stay.

He hated the feeling because staying and living in something was dangerous, but so was traveling and moving ... there were times when he didn't know what was up and what was down anymore. Where left was, where right was, if there was an up and if there was a down.

He washed his hand down his face, wiping the weariness away, threw the hoodie off of his head and climbed the shaky stairs up to the second floor. He had done some repairs on the stairs, replaced some of the rotten and creaky wooden planks with new ones but there was only so much he could do, since nails and tools weren't really in abundance. Which was another reason why he always had to step over the hole in the fifth stair from the bottom up or the sixth one from the top.

The sunlight was still bright, coming from two small, round windows in the staircase, so he could see where he was going, but as soon as the sun would set, he would have to either just go to sleep or light a candle. And lighting a candle was like lightning a beacon to anyone who was foolish enough to walk around in the dark.

What was hidden in the dark could take a person away. Could eat him alive. People were disappearing, taken by the Icies or killed by the humans, who knew anymore. Who knew? Not Jensen, not the people he met. They all just told stories, rumors, tales ... there could be truth in them, of course, but anything anyone said had to have been taken with a lot of reserve. Lies were the truth, the truth were lies and nothing was everything, while everything was nothing.

All he knew was that he needed to be strong. He needed to be as strong as the woman who had raised him, had taught him to be. As strong as his real mom had been.

Alineja had told stories of his mother, had sat him down on her knee and told him how his mommy had been beautiful, how young but strong she had been. How his eyes were all hers and how his courage was all hers too.

Sometimes … sometimes he wished Alineja hadn't talked about his real mom at all, because all of her words were digging a hole in his heart and he hurt. He missed. He loved a woman he had never laid eyes on, but still felt so much towards her – so much love and admiration. So much hate too.

And then when his eyes started to fill up with tears, Alineja would stroke his hair with a gentle hand and whisper to him to go tickle his uncle.

He loved tickling his uncle, because then his uncle would laugh and laugh and then Jensen'd start laughing and the sharp pinch in his heart would just … disappear in laughter.

"Shit …" he cursed, because while all of his childhood memories were good, not great, but good, thinking about them made his breathing hitch and he couldn't … he couldn't do that. He needed to be strong.

He sniffed at himself while putting the food on the table top he had found lying around and had dragged into the room and placed it on the floor.

"Ugh..."

He reeked of sweat and blood and the shit of the sewers.

Another good thing about this house was the bathroom. Of course, it didn't have any running water and the toilet didn't work - he used the forest out back for that - and the ceiling had caved in just so that it went through the shower stall, but the bathtub ... the bathtub was still standing completely intact. No holes, no chipped porcelain, nothing. It had been really dirty when he had stumbled upon it, and a family of birds had made a nest in it. But he had scrubbed it clean as much as he could - couldn't really get rid of the mold in the right bottom corner, not without some heavy duty cleaners of which there were none.

But he had a bathtub. How many humans could say that? Not many, Jensen was sure of that. And sure it took some work to get it clean and sure, it took a hell of a lot more work to get it filled up with water, but he managed. In the five days he had been here, he had taken a bath once. And it had been so worth it - all of the pain of cleaning it, of getting ahold of enough water to fill it up. So worth killing a few water dealers.

He looked at himself into a mirror that he had found lying on the floor and had hung above the bathtub. Through the cracks in the glass he saw just how tired he was, how damn weary. There were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, his upper lip was split, the scar on his forehead was healing nicely and by the time it would be all healed it would look kinda awesome, he supposed. And he would need to shave soon, his scruff was becoming a beard and he hated having a beard. All kinds of things could get stuck in there and begin to rot because he couldn't really wash every day - but for now, he was okay with the scruff. Rubbing his fingers through it and over his lips, he saw the blood stuck behind his fingernails. There'd been a guy down in the sewers giving him a hard time over how many apples Jensen could get for how much water and he had broken the guy's nose because the fucker tried to rob him of two apples. He needed apples to clean his teeth and everyone knew the price for apples, goddamnit.

Running his tired hand up his cheek to rest it over his eyes – covering them – he tried to un-see what he had seen, tried to forget what he had done.

"Fuck..."

He cursed, sighed and turned to his left to start pouring some water into the tub. There were four two gallon containers, two of them were already empty so he poured the other two into the tub. It wasn't all that much, but it would have to do.

He put the knife on the collapsed ceiling that made a very convenient shelf, leaned his bow to the side of the bathtub near where his hands would be and stripped, folding his clothes neatly and putting his boots next to them on the ceiling next to his knife.

There was no way to heat up the water and he hissed at the coldness of it as it hit his feet and then as he lowered himself in. At least the water reached up to his hips as he sat in the coolness of it, in the cold room, on the cold porcelain.

He extended his legs as much as he could - which wasn't all that much, he still had to bend his knees a little – leaned his back to the cold porcelain and sighed.

It felt so good; the softness of the water caressing his tight muscles, the cleanliness he could actually _feel_ made him close his eyes and relax.

He breathed out. This … this was as close to happiness as he could get.

The water was warming up nicely with his body heat and he could feel it start to spread through his entire body like a wild fire, heating him from the inside out, making his tired and cold body nice and relaxed.

He was alone here. There were no people in his life that he could call friends, there was no one to share this with, no one to say 'uff, this feels so good' to, no one to flick water at.

He had no one.

He hid his face into his wet hands. He could feel the callouses on his palms, could feel the scars there from when he was still learning how to control his weapons, could feel just how strong his hands really were when he sunk his head into them and realized that his hands have killed. Just today. He'd killed again to fucking survive. He'd spilled so much blood in the twenty-three years he had been on this screwed up world, it could probably fill this entire tub and overflow it. But he did it, otherwise others would do it to him.

Kill or be killed. Jensen had been told that the previous life, before the Icies, hadn't been all that much better, the only difference was that now ... now you didn't get punished for killing.

The punishment was living and that was enough.

There was so much blood on Jensen's hands; he could feel it pouring down his trembling fingers. So much suffering, so much struggle, he felt it scorching his skin and he began to rock back and forth, sloshing the water with his movement. Faster and faster, back and forth banging his back on the tub, hitting his chest on his knees, but he felt nothing. He felt no pain, and tomorrow he would be wondering where the hell all the bruises came from.

But he couldn't stop; he had gained momentum and he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop pulling at his hair with his still bloody fingers, couldn't stop pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

There were stars starting to explode underneath the pressure, in the dark of his closed eyes and he could've sworn that he could see a whole different world under his eyelids. Stars upon stars that morphed into waterfalls of bright, colorful lights.

It was magic, how he could bring forth another world just by pressing his hands into his eyes. A world where there were no humans, no Icies, no one trying to kill him or rob him of apples, no one to kill, no one to run from. Nothing, but an endless array of stars.

Stars everywhere.

When Jensen had told his uncle about the stars, the man smiled and told him 'they're a good place to hide, Jensen, but don't hide for too long or you'll get lost'. He nodded then and crawled into his uncle's lap, no need for stars then.

He fell forward, bringing his shins to the floor of the bathtub and his calves under his ass.

The water muffled his screams when he dunked his head under the surface and let go. Alineja was dead, his uncle was gone too and there was no one that would be able to hear him, no one at all to tell him that everything he ever did was because he had to and that it was all all right. All there was was cold water sucking in his screams, bubbles forming at the surface. He raised his head, took a deep breath and fell down again, into the water and screamed.

There was no one to listen, no one to hear, no one to make him stop.

If Jensen would've drowned, there would be no one to miss him. No one to mourn him. No one would ever find him and he would rot in this bathtub, forgotten and alone.

Raising his head up, water cascading in a stream down his face and between his legs, he breathed in. He would not allow for this world to eat him like it had his real mom. Like it had Alineja or his uncle.

He would not let this world win. He would not let the humans, nor the Icies win.

Pushing his hands up and down his face three times to chase away the lingering screams, water and tears, he laid his head back on the edge of the tub and looked up at how the ceiling was so close to just … falling right on top of him.

"If you fall on me, Imma kill ya." He murmured and listened for any sounds that would indicate the ceiling doing … something. But there was nothing. All quiet, all silent, just him here.

Always just him. Just Jensen versus the world. And a ceiling.

Placing his hands on his stomach, he sunk lower into the soothing water.

Always just him … his hands slipped lower, caressing his abs, left hand slipping to his balls, while his right one curled around his dick.

Always just him … he tugged on his dick a few times, the sound of the splashing water drowned in the sound of blood rushing down south, his other hand fondled his balls and then slid up to his nipples, pinching both of them a few times.

Always just him and him alone … he was close, he'd been on edge for days, not many chances to do this, not many opportunities to let go like this. His hips were hitching higher up, pushing his dick into his tight fist, up, down, up, down, in and out, in and out until he had to twist to the side and burry his head into the water when he came. A shout ripped itself out of his opened mouth and he tasted his bitter come on his tongue when he swallowed some of the water.

Come and dirt and blood and him. Always just him.

He lay there, turned on his right side, head out of the water now, catching his breath while still touching his dick. It was sensitive now, too sensitive border lining on painful, but he couldn't stop touching. This was maybe his last opportunity for something like this. Maybe … maybe tomorrow he'd die. Or maybe it would take weeks before he'd be able to get himself off again without being scared of making too much noise.

"Fuck, shit, goddamnit, damn it!"

Slowly, he let go of his soft dick and rolled over, getting his rubbery legs under him to try and get out of the tub. The water wasn't just water anymore and he really didn't want to lie in his own come.

Standing there in the middle of the tub, water dripping down his body into the dirty, brown soup still in the tub, he thought that yeah, that was a lot of dirt. But there was still some dirt that nothing could ever scrub clean.

There was dirt so deep in Jensen's soul, so deep in his head, in his heart, that nothing he would ever do would scrub it clean and make him all right.

He looked at his hands, and they were clean. No blood, no dirt. Same went for his chest and stomach, his thighs, his back … everything was sun-browned skin matted with freckles. Jensen wondered, sometimes when he looked at his fingers and his arms, if his mom had had freckles. Or his dad. Alineja never said, nor did his uncle, so he was in the dark there.

All he had of his real parents was a name and a t-shirt with an AC/DC logo on it. He hadn't known what AC/DC was but then his uncle had explained and … he wanted to hear a song from them. He wanted to hear music. Wanted to know why his parents had had that shirt. What had it meant to them?

He'd never know.

Stepping out of the tub, he dried himself with a towel he had found last month in some hut he stayed in up in the hills. He would have to be careful with it, not to lose it and not to overuse it because that would suck.

His clothes were where he had left them and he threw them into the tub, moved them up and down a bit, getting them nice and soaked. They'd dry over the night and maybe tomorrow he wouldn't have to walk around with blood stains and smelling of sweat. He ignored the fact that his come was also in that water, but … better that, than blood and sweat.

He put on his hoodie and some kinda sweat pants he had found in the same place he found the towel, but they were a bit too small for him, reaching only mid-calf. They would have to do and they were clean(ish).

Picking up the candle, he lit his way over to the room where he slept.

When he had found this house, he'd really hit jackpot.

The bed was a wooden plank; long enough for Jensen to spread out on, wide enough for him not to sleep on the bare floor if he rolled over in his sleep. There was a blanket; old, scratchy and half eaten by moths, and it offered no comfort, the wood was still hard and unforgiving on his back. But it was a bed in a place that he didn't have to share with sixty other people, listening to them breathing and snoring the entire night.

It wasn't safe, not by any means, but it was a place where he could get some rest, even if 'rest' was only one or two hours of deep sleep and the rest was just twisting and turning and chasing sleep while keeping one ear alert, listening to any sounds that didn't belong and the other half asleep.

The green apple was sour in his mouth, its juices running down his chin and he scooped them up with his finger. No food should go to waste. Ever, no matter how gross it looked like, no matter how sweet or how sour it tasted, food was food and it was like a new religion. Pray for food or pray for death.

Only two choices. This new world offered only two choices, and Jensen always prayed for the former.

Taking another bite, the last one, he looked at the wall across from where he was sitting on his bed. The candlelight was casting dancing shadows on the whiteness of the wall, flickering light that made them look huge with arms spread wide looking as if they were trying to devour him. Their fingers were as thin as a pencil, and as long as a snake reaching out for him, trying to touch him and …

… swallowing down the chewed meat of the apple, he lay down on the plank, blowing out the candle, snuffing out the shadows.

He didn't need any more things to haunt him.

He was a killer and a thief and he regretted nothing, he regretted nothing during daylight when other things were occupying his mind, but when night fell he could feel the darkness pushing all he had ever done, all the things that were wrong and bad down onto his chest, making it impossible to breathe. All the shadows the moon cast on the walls seemed like they were out to get him and drag him to wherever he had sent those poor souls when his knife made them bleed out or one of his arrows pierced their heart.

The nights were terror, pure and simple, and Jensen often spent them shaking and shivering from all the flashes of dead eyes, red blood and the _wooosh_ of his arrows through the air.

But this night ... he was too tired. Full of food and sated and so tired, the fullness of his belly and the soothing feeling of the bath dragging him down to a world of dreams. If he would be lucky, the calm he was feeling wouldn't allow any nightmares to come.

He drifted off to sleep, one ear in dreamland and one ear on the trap he had set for anyone that would come.

He didn't hear them, not really, he just knew something was wrong; something was making the hair at the back of his neck stand up. Everything was too silent, everything felt too still. He felt too calm, too good.

Gripping the handle of the knife, he opened one eye. If it were humans, they wouldn't be able to see him, not in this darkness, but if it were Icies, he was dead either way.

He tried to be very still which wasn't all that hard, because he was feeling lethargic, could actually smell the calmness the intruders were emanating.

It was the Icies … it was them which gave Jensen only two options. Die or go down swinging.

As death didn't appeal to him, he would always choose to go down swinging. And that was why he was up on his feet before one of them was a foot into the room.

His knife felt light in his hand, sharp and he knew how to play with it. He had taught himself well, had a lot of practice and had a lot of scars to show just how long of a journey it had been to learn handling a knife in any kinda fight.

Raising it high and pointing it directly at a man who was standing before him, he smirked and hefted the knife, gripping it tighter. The fucker would go down.

The Icy had eyes so bright blue they glowed in the darkness. All he could really see were the eyes, two points of blue in the pitch black.

They didn't even blink, just stared directly at him. Creepy, but he'd seen worse. There was no fuckin' way he would show the Icy anything other than just how much he wanted it dead.

"You creepy little bastards …" he breathed out and made two steps to his left, knife still held high and pointed directly at the man.

Icy didn't say anything, but even if it would, who cared. Whatever, it'd be dead soon anyway, because Jensen would send that knife flying between the man's eyes before Icy could even open his goddamned mouth.

Jensen sneered at the man, knowing that the Icy could see him and brought his arm just a little bit back, to get some more momentum to throw the knife when a hand closed around his bicep.

Hard. Unforgiving. Fingers digging into his skin, grinding bones together.

Jensen didn't panic. His heart didn't miss a few beats. He didn't swallow his tongue.

He wasn't scared.

And when a raspy voice calmly breathed into his ear: "Ohhh, no you don't human. We've been looking for you for a very long time," Jensen gritted his teeth in anger, his eyes still on the two spots of bright blue in front of him and stepped on the Icy's foot, turned around and plunged the knife into the man. He didn't know where he hit it, couldn't see it, not in this darkness, but he did smirk when a groan of pain hit his ears. Icies could be hurt. They could die. Or so he had been told. No one had actually … seen one of them die. Or had killed one themselves, not even Jensen. The three Icies he had stabbed, he ran away when they'd still been writhing on the ground. But … everything dies. One way or another, everything dies.

He was just about to pull the knife out of the Icy when an arm wrapped around his neck. Damn rookie mistake, turning his back on an enemy. Fuck his life.

He tried to twist and turn, hit the Icy in its guts with his elbow … but …

… choke hold. Fuck. Fuck them for playing dirty, damn fuckers. He should've known better. Really, he should.

It wasn't dark when Jensen blinked his eyes open. Once, twice, three times until he could actually hold them open completely without feeling like the light was pushing knives into his brain.

It wasn't cold wherever he was, but he still shivered, looking down at himself and seeing that he was only wearing his sweat pants and his sneakers. Someone had taken off his shirt, stripped him of his knife and left him tied up to a chair in the middle of … a …

… he blinked again and shook his head, trying to shake away the cobwebs his brain was wrapped in. He felt sluggish, like his brain was being dragged through oil.

He opened his eyes again and looked around. The room was … dirty, was the first thing that came to his mind. The walls were clearly metal or iron, because there was brown rust everywhere. The walls were painted in rust, not really something one saw every day. There was some green there too, maybe mold or moss, or maybe just a different array of rust. He wasn't an expert, really.

"What the…" he whispered and the breathed words echoed all around him, bouncing off the metallic walls, pushing at his eardrums.

Shaking his head and groaning a long, deep groan, he twisted his hands in the tight, coarse rope his wrists were bound with. All that did was make his shoulder ache, the unnatural angle his arms were twisted behind his back making the old injury flare up again. Damn shoulder dislocation, damn it to hell. It had been hard enough to pop it back in all those months ago, but to have it start acting up right now … damn it.

There was no way of escaping. There was absolutely no way he would get out of this … place.

Looking around again, he saw that the room curved to the right up ahead, disappearing into the darkness there.

"Shit …" he cursed and tested his legs that were bound to the chair around their ankles. Tested his arms again, just in case, but no, they were still securely fastened by the wrists.

He was in a round room with walls full of rust, and the chair he was sitting on was sturdy and unbreakable.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

He was fucked.

There were stories being told about how the Icies stole people, hunted them down and killed them or send them up to the Arctic to become their personal slaves or used for food … but all that was just rumors, as he had never actually seen the Icies do anything to anyone. He hadn't ever met a person who'd had any encounter with the Icies at all. Everything that he heard, that anyone ever heard, were stories that traveled across many mouths and ears. Stories mothers told their children at night, to make them afraid. To make them survivalist.

Alineja and his uncle never spoke of the Icies and whenever he asked about them, they just shared a look and then changed the subject into 'you hungry, sweetie?' or 'you wanna go hunt, squirt?'. It had been frustrating, not being given any answers and always living off of rumors, but after a while he'd just stopped asking.

So … Jensen guessed that this would be the moment where he'd learn what the Icies did to all the humans they caught. This would be it. And there would be no one to see this, to hear of this. He would be made into another rumor, another story to be told at camp fires and deep down in the sewers among all those rats. He would be whispered about … but there would be no one mourning him. No one would miss him.

A piercing creak of a metal door opening somewhere around where the room bent into a corner made him wince and snap his head up high and to his right to see what his death would look like.

He wished he had his knife, he wished he had his quiver full of sharp arrows and his trusty bow that had never failed him.

There was a feeling of being naked without his weapons - feeling like a newborn baby, defenseless and at anyone's mercy - that always washed over him whenever he was too far away from them.

The sound of footsteps was like thunder, the metallic floor making each step sound booming and raw and he flinched when he heard the door close.

Two or more. Two or more Icies were here and so … this was his death then.

Jensen wasn't okay with it, because he really, really had no desire to die. None. He had seen and caused too much death in his life and he didn't want that. He knew he was a hypocrite when it came to that, but fuck it. Fuck all those humans who had a death wish, fuck them. Even this fucked up world … it was still beautiful, even if the fight to survive sometimes blurred that beauty.

"Jensen, Jensen, Jensen …"

The voice was deep and soft, belonging to a thin and tall man with a round head full of brown hair. His eyes were big and blue, shining brighter and brighter with each step the man made towards him.

He tried really hard to mask the surprise he was feeling; they knew his name. His goddamn name. How?

"Well, you know my name, good for you. Has me in a bit of a disadvantage, here, huh?"

He was sweating, droplets of it running down his face, neck, between his pecs and all the way down his spine into his ass crack. It tickled and he wanted to scratch the itch, but his hands were tied … fuck. He squirmed on the chair, rubbed his ass and back on the hard wood and sighed. That worked great. Now if he could just get out of the rope.

"You can call me Noleih. Or Noah. As you wish."

"What if I call you asshole?"

The man smirked, the mole on his upper lip almost touching his nostril: "My name isn't important, Jensen, but yours … yours is worth so much, you can't even begin to imagine."

Jensen swallowed down every emotion that sentence wanted to invoke in him, because he would not give this fucker the satisfaction of seeing him scared or panicked or shocked.

He would give them nothing but a fight until the very end, until he was lying on the ground bleeding and broken with his guts spilling out. He would fight until the very bitter end.

Noah unbuttoned his black suit jacket and loosened his blue tie, something so human that it made Jensen feel sick. They weren't human. They were monsters, they were destroyers, they were assholes who fucked this planet over and were responsible for so much death and destruction. When Noah leaned closer to him, so close Jensen could actually smell mint on the man's breath and had to cross his eyes a little to still see Noah's face, his fingers twitched for his knife. He growled a little when they grabbed nothing but thin air and heavy rope and then … spat in the man's face.

It was childish and petty, but damn if watching the glob of thick spit run down the man's nose, lips and that red pimple on the man's chin didn't make him feel a whole of a lot better.

He laughed out loud as he watched Noah pull a handkerchief out of his suit's pocket and wipe the saliva away.

"Oh Jensen … you're as childish as Jared."

The name meant nothing to him and he didn't really understand why he was being compared to someone he didn't even know, but if this Jared guy was anything like him ... then he liked the guy already.

"Yeah well, you fuck with me, I fuck with you."

He didn't even see the man's hand move towards his face, but he sure as hell felt the sting of the impact. It hurt and he could taste blood in his mouth.

"Ahhh, fuck. I hope you didn't break me a tooth, you Icy bitch!" He ran his tongue across his teeth and didn't find any holes, so the guy probably just split his lip. The first cut hadn't even healed yet and now he had another one. Awesome.

"Well now, Jensen … you play nice and this is the first and the last hit you'll get. Okay?"

"Fuck you!"

He spat out a chunk of blood mixed with spit and barely missed the guy's face, but he didn't miss his pristine white shirt.

"Jensen, what did I just say about playing nice?"

Jensen wanted to stick his knife slowly, oh so slowly into this man's heart, like nobody's business.

"I don't play nice, asshole."

Noah sighed: "All right then let's get right to the point, shall we?"

"There's a point to all of this?"

He really wished slavery or death wasn't the point of all of this.

"Yes, there's a point to all of this. And the point is that you're going to tell me where Jared is, and I'll kill you fast and without pain."

Licking his teeth of the blood: "And now, why would I wanna do that?" he grinned when he saw Noah's eyes harden.

"Well, if you won't, then Ashil there will _make_ you tell me."

Jensen looked to his left and saw another man stand there, one he hadn't even noticed before. He knew two or more of them had come into the room, but damn they moved silently.

"Make me? Seriously? 'm not scared of you. 'm not scared of dying. And 'm not scared of pain."

He was lying. He was lying through his teeth and Alineja would've hit him with a spoon if he'd ever had lied to her like this, but … he was raised to be strong, to be brave.

"You're lying, Jensen. I can see it. I can smell your fear. And that's okay. That will help us get answers from you. It's okay."

He knew a lot of stories about the Icies, but that they were crazy, demented, delusional fuckers … he did not know that. Well … not for sure. But a guy truly does learn new shit every day.

"You'll never get anything out of me, especially not about some guy that I know nothing about and that I've never even heard of."

"We'll see. Ashil … he has a bone to pick with you, I mean you did stab him. Kinda awkward really, but _…_ _c'est la vie._ "

Stab him? He'd stabbed him, he did and the guy survived. Icies … they can't … die? So… one of the rumors confirmed then.

Jensen swallowed and tried so hard not to let this revelation be seen on his face.

"Ashil, please."

He watched as Noah stepped back and leaned on the rust covered wall just in front of him and started wiping his shirt of the spit of blood.

Jensen grinned; bloody teeth and a split lip.

It was the last thing he did before his body exploded with pain Jensen had never ever felt before. It was bright, it was cold and it was hot, it was burning him with the intensity of freezing cold water and scorching hot asphalt. It was winters and summers mixed together, spilling all over his skin.

He heard someone screaming, but it was too raw, too animalistic to be him. It wasn't him making all those noises. It wasn't him. It couldn't have been him. His voice wasn't so deep or so high pitched, it never was.

It wasn't him screaming. Couldn't be.

The question was always the same.

_Where is Jared?_

The answer was always the same too.

_Fuck you, fuck you, fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!_

Among him screaming, among the sound echoing in the space for seconds after he stopped, all Jensen felt was pain. Pain everywhere until at one point it all just stopped. Until at one point his brain stopped registering pain and just rolled with the punches. He blocked it all out and started to float among the sound of his screams and the endless questions of _where's Jared, Jared, Jared …_

"I … I don't … douhhhh … no Jared."

His head was hanging down, bloody drool running from his wide open mouth down into his lap.

He was a mess.

"Jensen, we can do this forever. Just tell us where Jared is and we'll stop, do you understand?"

"Nggh, f-fff-fuck y-ou."

"Jensen, just tell us."

"I d-don't k-k-know 'im."

The pain always came back; sudden at first until it slowed into something sharp and forceful, thin like needles. It was intense in how it stabbed into him, shooting hot and cold throughout his whole body.

Ashil, or whothefuckever, was good, Jensen had to give him that. The guy was good at all this … this torturing stuff.

"What?" Noah grabbed Jensen by his hair and pulled his head up, making him look directly into the man's face.

"I … d-d-don't … k-dnow … Ja-yred." he slurred out, trying to swallow down but his spit tasted of blood and it was making him wanna puke. He had actually puked three times, if his memory served him right, and he still wore the putrid smelling evidence in his lap, the apple he had eaten a few hours ago heating up his groin real nicely.

"You don't know Jared? Jensen, please, 'm not stupid."

"I don't…" he panted out, trying to push away how his skin felt so raw, sensitive to every small movement around him. Every shift in the air felt like needles were piercing into him through every pore.

"Fine, that's fine. Why don't you sleep on it and we'll see each other in a few hours? Yes?"

"G-gho f-f-ffuck yourselffff."

"Jensen, you're so like Jared it's uncanny."

Jensen rolled his eyes at the smile Noah got when he'd said those words. What a creep.

When Noah finally released his hair, he let gravity take his head wherever it wanted. Which was down, chin hitting his chest and more pink drool spilling down onto his lap.

The door closed with a loud creak and he shut his eyes, still drooling. And then he pissed himself, because apparently drool and puke just wasn't enough of a humiliation.

He wanted to sleep, wanted to dream of something better, of a place this planet used to be. Wanted to dream of the stars. Wanted to feel the weight of his knife against his thigh and the weight of his bow on his back.

He ached; hot blood mixed with spit and sweat was running down his chest and abs, his nipples were hiding under a crust of dried blood, his legs were drenched and it all looked so … maybe he still was dreaming. Maybe he was still in that house and all of this was just a dream.

He turned his head away from his groin and spat out to the ground.

"Fuck…"

There was so much blood.

He leaned back into the chair and breathed.

He had no clue who this Jared guy was, and why these Icies thought that he of all the humans knew where the bastard was. They really were delusional sons of bitches.

It hurt, his whole body hurt but Jensen couldn't quite recall what the guy did to him to make him feel this way, to make him bleed so badly. All he could remember was the guy's hands coming at him and then the pain just exploded all over his body, searing his skin, breaking his bones, making his mouth water and blood start to run out of him like a damn river. He wasn't sure just how much more blood he could spare before he would go into shock and die of blood loss. But if they really needed answers from him, about this Jared guy, and if he was the only one to know, then ... they probably wouldn't let him die just like that, right?

Jensen didn't know if that thought soothed him or not.

He hung his head and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the mess in his lap; he was feeling the wetness seep through his sweat pants and his dick and balls were literally swimming in his puke, blood and piss and it was disgusting.

He'd just had a bath, for crying out loud. A nice, relaxing bath with nice, cool water that had washed away three days' worth of sweat and grime and made all of his muscles loosen up and now this. And he had just gotten himself off too, which was probably the reason he hadn't heard the trap being triggered; because he was asleep, because he was too loosened up.

Fucking assholes for making him bleed and sweat all over his nicely washed skin and ruining his post orgasmic sleep.

If he had his bow and knife, everyone in this place would have already been dead a long time ago. But no one ever said about the Icies playing or fighting fair so ... why should this be any different.

He just wished everyone would leave him alone. He meant no harm to anyone, he never messed with anyone's business, he never stepped on anyone's toes, and yet, humans always tried to kill him and the Icies, well, they knew his name and they thought he knew this Jared dude.

He never wished for this life and all he wanted was to be left alone, to hunt for his food, to sleep in a half-decent place and live until his natural death, was that too much to ask for? Apparently yes.

"Uuugh..."

He spat out some more blood and tried to think of the stars that always burst into existence if he pushed his hands into his eye sockets. He couldn't do that now, tied hands and all, but he tried to think of them, tried to imagine them be there and whisk him out of here, to safety. To another world. One where his mom was still alive and he knew his dad's name. One where Alineja and his uncle were still with him, teaching him about nature and hunting and math and grammar and history. One where he wasn't bleeding to death from wounds he couldn't even see.

Invisible wounds to kill an invisible man.

How appropriate.

He tried to swallow, but making his throat work was painful; he had screamed himself into a sore throat.

He'd roll his eyes, if they weren't hurting too.

Jensen wished many a thing, but to feel cool hands holding both his cheeks and smushing his lips into a tight 'o' wasn't one of them.

Snapping his eyes open, he hissed when the light made them tear up. He tried blinking the spots away and when he did, he wished he hadn't.

"Jensen! Jensen, wake up. Wake up. Easy, just take it easy."

Even if the words were whispered and soft, they still felt as if they were being stabbed right into his head.

"Ugggh…"

"Easy, easy, you're all right, can you walk?"

He wasn't sure what kind of a trick this was, what kinda fucked up game the Icies were playing here, but he could feel his hands be free, he could feel the man pull him up on his own two - working, if a bit weak - legs.

"Hey, hey look at me. Can you walk?"

"Wha? Yeah..."

He made a step forward only to fall onto something solid and warm.

"N...nuh..."

"Okay, never mind, come on, come on, we need to get away from here before Noleih comes back."

They were already rounding the bend and he could see a few more feet in front of him, a door, as covered with rust as the rest of the place was.

The man was dragging him forward, one arm around Jensen's waist the other around his shoulders, while he stumbled as a barely born colt right alongside the man.

"What'sss wha'?"

"Shhh, shh don't talk okay? Just stay quiet, okay?"

He never could do quiet, Alineja and he had a few fights over that, because he was always quick mouthed and loud, borderlining on obnoxious, but he understood the need for silence when one wanted to break out of a torture chamber. He snickered, torture chamber. He snickered again and uh-uh, blood loss, shock, brain shutting down. He felt like he was high on something the "medicine" men and women cooked up deep in the forests. Those people knew shit, they knew really good shit. He wasn't one of the humans who did drugs to escape this life, he ... he didn't take drugs to see the stars, because he needed to be alert and protect his back as well as his front and he couldn't do that, not while flying way up high on some good stuff the medicines cooked up in their pots and pans.

That would be like signing his own death warrant.

But if it worked for some, who was he to judge? Everyone needed an escape, it was just that Jensen's was more of a ... fighting kind.

"Jensen you with me?"

He couldn't answer that, because no. Nooohhoohoo, he wasn't. He was falling, sinking into the warm side of the man and he didn't care what would happen to him next. Where he was being taken. He didn't care if he would wake up ever again or not.

He had promised his uncle that he would live ... survive and live as best as he could, but right here and now, it felt good to just lean onto the solidness of the person holding him up and close to his side and just let go.

They were probably leaving a trail of his blood behind, but he didn't care. Nor did he care when he saw the dead eyes of Ashil staring back at him, the man lying crumbled on his side near a wall.

Dead.

Fuck.

That was the last straw and he let go of the desire to be strong and to see where and when his doom would come.

The pull of the darkness was stronger and Jensen gave in.

No warrior ever wanted to go out in the middle of the battle, his uncle once told him, but sometimes what made a warrior good was the knowledge of when the battle was lost.

So Jensen lost it.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 3**

He was falling; stumbling over the forest ground, leaves rustling under his shaky legs. Knees weak, head spinning, _deaddeaddead_ , his palms slapping hard against tree trunks but not hard enough to make the pain in his chest disappear.

_Deaddeaddead_.

Alineja was dead. Killed by the Icies as if she was nothing but a twig broken in half.

He was falling; the pain in his chest soaring high, bringing tears to his eyes.

_No, no, nononono!_

This wasn't supposed to have happened. They were ... they were following the rules, they were moving, they weren't living in the same house all the time, they weren't camping at the same spot for more than three days, they ... shouldn't have been found.

_Deaddeaddead._

He was falling; down onto his bony knees on some dry, orange and red leaves, falling down until his forehead hit the ground. He grabbed a fistful of 'em, didn't feel his fingernails break, not feeling anything but how dawn would bring nothing but ... loneliness. There would be no more Alineja to wake him up with a smile and some food. There would be no more Alineja to tell him stories of his mom, no more stories of how life used to be, no more stories at all.

He was alone now. There was no one in his life anymore to ... there was just no one. Alineja was dead, Uncle Sam had left four years ago, he didn't know anyone else and he was alone.

He was pretty sure he had lost the Icies, or maybe they hadn't even noticed him, being too busy ripping the spine out of Alineja's back _to_ notice him be there at all.

He was alone now. On this world, he was alone now.

He leaned his head down and screamed into the ground, stuffing his mouth with the dried leaves to muffle the sound. Tears are for the weak, Uncle Sam had whispered to him sometimes in the dead of the night, but they make you stronger, too.

He shed one tear for a woman that had been in every way his mother, then another for a woman that combined with his uncle had been in every way his teacher. And then it was enough.

Tears were for the weak, and in this world, being weak meant death which he wasn't all that excited about. Alineja had taught him to survive, to fight, to love and to live. And for her, Jensen would be strong. Two tears would have to be enough of the mourning for the woman who had raised him since he was just a baby, only three hours out of his mom's belly. She was the woman who had taught him how to live on this world and how to keep his soul from bleeding.

He raised himself up to his wobbly feet, cleaned his wet face of any signs of weakness that whoever would find him in these woods could abuse and started walking into the rising sun.

It would be a hot day, he could feel it all over his body.

_"Jensen?"_

It would be a sunny day, he could see it in the redness of the sun.

_"Jensen, come on, easy, come on, just open your eyes."_

It would be a day full of silence, he could feel it in his head.

_"Come on, easy, easy, open your eyes for me, buddy."_

It would be a day full of walking on achy feet and desperate need of water.

_"That's it, come on, it's okay, it's all right, come on, buddy."_

He was lost. Everyone he'd ever had was gone.

He was falling into a warm, dim light.

"Jensen, hey..."

Jensen was burning, he was burning but he wasn't screaming, he wasn't making any noise because noise could attract monsters, monsters who would kill him.

And he didn't want that. He didn't. He rolled over, hissing quietly when the hard surface of whatever he was lying on dug itself into his ribs.

The ... image ... in front of his eyes made abso-fucking-lutely no sense. Whatever those two Icies had done to him must've short-circuit some of his brain cells or something, because what - who he was seeing just couldn't be.

Jensen closed his eyes, said 'hi' to the pretty little stars and lines of colors that appeared under his eyelids, and let them take him away again.

"Jensen, don't do this, not now. Come on, open your eyes."

He squeezed his eyes tighter, because no, this ... this wasn't happening. He was dreaming, he was dead, he was ... this wasn't real.

"Jensen ..."

But the voice kept on returning, kept on saying his name, he fucking damn well knew his own name, fuck ... just ... no, this wasn't happening.

"You're not real..." he whispered and tugged his hands closer to his chest, his legs closer to his body and hid his face into the hard surface of what he was lying on.

It smelled of those same dry leaves that he'd had stuck in his nose for weeks after he'd run away from the Icies and Alineja's body. For weeks that smell had haunted him, hunted him, followed him throughout the day and into his dreams.

For weeks, Jensen could hear her screams, could see the sneer on the Icy's face when he'd ripped out Alineja's spine … for weeks that image had followed him into restless sleep.

"Jensen, listen to me, kiddo ... open your eyes. Right now."

"Shut up." he gritted through clenched teeth, because no. This just wasn't happening.

"Please..."

Jensen was lost again. Falling into that feeling of pain inside of his chest that couldn't be healed no matter how many Icies he had killed. No matter how many of them he'd stuck his knife into, no matter how many of their hearts he'd had pierced with one of his arrows ... that pain in his chest stayed with him, sitting heavy and watchful every damn night.

And then he'd learned that the Icies couldn't really be killed like that. So … he hadn't killed any of them. Not really. He hadn't even hurt them. He hadn't made any dent in their population. He'd … only killed humans. For real.

Jensen swallowed down the bile that rose up into his mouth. He wouldn't puke, fuck his life, but he wouldn't puke. His throat was already sore and he had nothing more to give. Stomach acid and even that was in very scarce supply.

He slowly opened his eyes, leaving the comfort of the stars and blissful darkness. It had been just him and the stars on a dark canvas for such a long time, years since Alineja had died and it was soothing. It was a world free of the blood and the brokenness.

"Uncle Sammy?" he rasped and licked his lips, still tasting some blood there, but it wasn't as horrible as before.

"Hey, kid."

The man still had the same smile, the same face, the same hair, the same deep voice, the same calm manner ... the same. His uncle was exactly the same as he had been when he'd left him and Alineja so many years ago.

Exactly the same.

Jensen blinked, because maybe his eyes were just tired, not able to see straight, the pain and the blood loss, but when he opened them again, no. The man was still there, sitting cross-legged near him and looking at Jensen with the same calm expression he'd always had. The very same. Bright, warm eyes.

Exactly the same.

He had never forgotten his uncle. Never. He ... he thought of him a lot; whenever the loneliness became too much, whenever his knife became too tempting, whenever the nights were the darkest and the days the hottest, whenever the desire to bury his head in his hands and cry became too much - he thought of his uncle. Thought how, whenever the man had touched him calm had rushed all over him, how the man's words were always full of wisdom, knowledge, love and sweetness. How, whenever they played 'battle', Alineja would roll her eyes and scoff at their muddy faces and their torn clothes. How walking all day long on his small feet had made him hurt but he had been a strong boy and had never said anything but uncle Sam had always known and had picked him up, put him behind his shoulders and held his calves. Safe. He'd always felt so safe.

This was an illusion. The man was an illusion. The Icies had done something to Jensen, had drugged him or whatever they did to humans. Or he was dead and this was heaven or maybe hell, because he sure damn deserved that.

But the smell of dried leaves was still in his nose, still invading his mind, bringing forth memories of Alineja. Memories of Uncle Sammy.

"'m real, not an illusion. You're not dead, Jensen."

"You're not real..." he gasped and moaned through a burst of pain that came from somewhere south of his brain.

"I _am_ real. Come on Jensen, we taught you better than this."

He nodded, chafing his cheek on the leaves. Alineja and Uncle Sam had taught him better than this. They had taught him how to fight; dirty and flawless. They had been training him - through play when he was a kid and more seriously when he got older - how to fight with his brain, his arms and his legs.

He uncurled himself and was on his feet between one breath and the next. He wasn't sure what he was even doing, the momentum just kind of carried him forward and he kicked the man - Uncle Sam - in his head, right under the man's chin, watching how he fell onto his right.

There was no grunt of pain from the guy, no noise whatsoever, and Jensen watched with wide eyes as the man righted himself, uncrossed his legs and stood up.

Just like that.

A kick like that ought to snap a person's neck, but …

"What the hell? What are you?"

He stepped into a protective stance; left leg forward, right one back, fingers curled into fists before his head.

"That's good, Jensen. That's what we taught you."

The man looked proud. Just like Uncle Sammy had whenever he did something good.

"What the …"

Jensen's eyes widened when he saw the man was taller than him, wider at the shoulders, more muscled, even though his own muscles were well-defined too. Fighting and hunting and training did that to a person. And lack of food didn't really allow to store up any fat either, although when one is born to scarce amount of water and food, one's body adapts. It needs far less substance than it would with 'normal' food supply.

"You're an Icy."

"Jensen …"

Even if Jensen was feeling really, really close to passing out he couldn't do that. Even if his eyes were getting blurry, making everything go a bit dim at the edges, and even if his legs felt weak and unsteady, he couldn't go down. Couldn't pass out like a sissy. This man was right; that's not what he had been taught.

Gathering up all of the remaining strength he had, all the anger at being surprise-attacked by Asshole one and Asshole two back at the house, tied up and tortured, he made his move - kicking the guy into his stomach, making him stumble backwards but before the guy could do anything Jensen was on him, his hand on the guy's sweaty neck, bringing him down to the ground, like an axe brings down a tree.

He crawled on top of him, pinning him, his hand still holding the man's throat, feeling the Adam apple bob under his weak fingers.

"Who the fuck are you?" he growled, all but spat down onto the man's face. Damn, he really looked just like Uncle Sam. Uncanny.

What a mind fuck all of this was. He was probably dreaming and this was what his drugged up mind came up with. Or his blood-loss mind, whatever.

"Who are you?! Answer me, or I swear 'm gonna kill ya, answers or not!"

He knew he looked completely wild, his mind in the _killkillkill_ zone, but his heart was stopping him. He couldn't … kill … his uncle. If there was just the slightest chance this this man really was his uncle …

Jensen could see with the corner of his eye the guy slowly raising up his left hand.

"Drop it!"

Jensen couldn't move his hands, if he'd do so, he'd risk the man dislodging him and he couldn't have that.

"I said drop it, or I'll choke you right here, right now."

He squeezed his hand tighter and watched as the man didn't even flinch, his nostrils flaring, eyes completely calm. It was obvious the Icy couldn't talk, but hell if he'd loosen up his hand. He didn't want to hear anymore lies come out of the man's mouth. They would just make him snap and beat this liar into pieces. It probably wouldn't kill him, but it would make Jensen feel a lot better.

But the hand was still slowly inching up towards his face, the man's eyes shining bright blue-green-orange-yellow in the dusky light.

An Icy.

The sun was going down, the horizon looking gray and dark blue. Must've been a beautiful sunset.

"Jensen …"

"Shut up and lower your hand, or I swear to God Imma kill you."

_If I lower my hand, then what_ , was written clearly on the man's face. Then what are you gonna do with me? Kill me? Let me go? What's your plan here? And fuck, but that sounded just like uncle Sammy did whenever he was teaching him tactic.

Jensen shook his head, trying to clear it of memories, trying to push back the weakness he could feel starting to invade his limbs. The hand on the man's throat was already shaking, loosening its grip second after second after second.

And then the hand finally came into contact with his cheek and the palm felt just like his uncle's had.

"Don't fucking touch me." He snarled.

"'s all right."

Jensen shook his head, but how that would make the hand go away, he had no idea. He wasn't thinking clearly. Nothing was making any sense.

Especially the palm that was becoming gentler and gentler on his cheek, the longer the guy was touching him. He hissed at how the calm started to penetrate into his mind, his brain, his thoughts. It was even starting to dim the pain he was still in.

"Aaaah, what the…"

Releasing the guy, he crawled off of him, like a crab out of the ocean and got on his feet. His palm shook when he pressed it to his cheek, not knowing what to expect when skin would touch skin. But there was nothing there, just his scruff and some wetness. Probably sweat.

"You're one of 'em, you're one of them! You Icy fucker!"

He stumbled away, barely feeling his legs anymore and watched with fear so alive he could feel it be hot in his veins, as the man got up from the ground, cleaned himself off and started walking right at him.

"It's all right, kid," the Icy smiled, "man. You're not a kid anymore, are you? You're a man now. All grown up now…" there was a hint of awe in the Icy's voice and Jensen didn't know what to say to all that but he knew he had to get away from this crazy Icy or risk being killed, because he was for sure not firing on all cylinders right now.

"Jensen, I know this is, uh, a shock, but let's get you to sit down and we'll talk."

"Talk?" he laughed. Talk? That was the last thing he wanted to do with this Icy. He wanted to tear him apart and rip him to shreds, stab him with his knife, that's what he wanted.

He patted his leg, searching for his knife, but it wasn't there. It wasn't there and Asshole one and Asshole two probably didn't take it with them and, and, and … he had lost his knife. He had lost his bow. He had lost his arrows.

He had lost … he had lost everything. Everything he was, there was no more.

"It's all right, man, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You … you stay the hell away from me!"

It was a rock that did him in. A goddamned stupid rock that made him trip and fall on his ass, drawing out a grunt and a hiss. The man was still walking towards him, slowly but surely and he tried to pick himself off of the ground, his arms feeling as if they'd break any second now.

"Don't you come near me, you son of an Icy bitch!" he snarled and scrambled up to his feet, pulling forth every reserve of strength he still possessed, because he would not die laying down or kneeling in front of the lying bastard.

They stood like that, face to face, eye to eye, one shaking and listing to the side in danger of toppling over if the wind would be strong enough, and the other one calm, sure, strong, head held up high and a look of pride in his eyes.

"You're gonna pass out now, but when you'll wake up we'll talk."

The Icy's voice was soft, merely stating a fact. It made him wanna cut the Icy's tongue off.

"What?"

Jensen grabbed his head, hearing a ringing sound inside, he couldn't feel his legs anymore and his eyes were blurring, his hands feeling heavy. Blood loss. Exhaustion, hunger and dehydration. Fear and instinct to survive.

Fuck his life.

His legs folded beneath him and he fell to the ground. Strings cut. Darkness, without stars.

Jensen woke up to the sound of wood crackling and heat against his face. He opened one eye and saw fire, branches clearly visible in the orange flames. The fire pit was surrounded by big stones and he hoped that meant something cooked would await him once he would be able to move his body.

It was not that time yet and he closed his eye to a whispered: "Just sleep, kid, you're safe here."

Hearing a voice like this, just appearing out of nowhere, should've brought him up to his feet holding his knife in not time, but ... he had no knife. He had nothing now, just an aching body and an Icy pretending to be his uncle.

He drifted back to sleep; there was nothing else for him to do.

Jensen opened his eyes and saw the fire again, but it wasn't raging like before, it was just orange ambers lying neatly in the nest of rocks. His cheek hurt, being smashed against the ground like that, his whole right side hurt, ribs probably bruised if not cracked, his hip in agony pressed to the hard forest ground for who knew how long. Even his back ached, having it bowed like that, knees to his chest, protecting his gut.

"Hey, you awake?"

He shuddered and looked around, seeing the man sitting close by, holding a shirt in his hands.

The moon was bright as always, so bright it sometimes felt as if it were a flashlight someone forgot to turn off. He could see everything; the trees, the leaves, the Icy. His uncle.

"I have some clothes. I let the fire burn down, so it's gonna get real cold, real soon."

Jensen licked his lips, felt them be dry and chapped and he was so thirsty. He swallowed what felt like dust; he would kill for some water. And some food.

"Here."

He startled because a cup of some sort appeared before his eyes and the Icy was so close.

"'s just water, Jensen. I swear, just water."

"No…" he whispered, because it could be poisoned. It could be a trap. It could be so many things, and yet it really could just be water. Glorious, cool, delicious water.

"Come on, don't let me do the 'flying' thing."

"What?"

The Icy rolled his eyes: "Don't you remember? I had to pretend that a spoon or a cup was flying to make you eat your food."

Liar. Liar. No!

"Come on, just water, it'll make you feel better."

He choked on the first sip, sweet, sweet water running down his chin and he could weep at all the drops that were lost now. Water was so precious and he let it drip into nothingness.

"Slowly."

He glared at the man, but he knew it was too weak, he was too weak, because it took him so much time to finish one cup of water. But slow did the trick and he didn't spill anymore, didn't let more water go to waste.

"Good, now come on, let's get this shirt on you."

"Don't touch me."

"Jensen, please. Just … get this shirt on you, I don't want you to be cold. Alineja would … she … please, just get the shirt on."

"Don't you say her name. Don't you even … don't!"

The Icy's eyes were glowing green-yellow-amberorange and bright-blue in the moonlight and if Jensen would've been able to get past his anger, he would be able to see signs of tears in the Icy's eyes.

But he was pissed and he was tired and he could feel the water soothing away the emptiness he could feel in his belly.

"Here, I think it'll fit you."

The shirt was red and gray checkered plaid and it felt warm in his hands, but for the life of him, he didn't know how the hell he'd manage to put it on. His arms felt like lead and his legs must've fallen asleep at some point, because they were tingling when he tried to shuffle them a bit.

He must've made a noise, something that probably told the Icy that he was frustrated and annoyed, because between one sluggish blink and the next he was sort of vertical, sitting on his ass and leaning forward, his forehead resting snuggly against the Icy's chest.

His hands were itching for his knife, he could've stabbed the Icy right here and right now and then run away as fast as he could … but … Icies couldn't be killed by a mere mortal's knife, could they?

He hated his brain and how it was always so rational and logical and always seemed to screw him in the process.

"I remember," the words made Jensen twitch, the man was so close, "when you were a kid and," the Icy sighed, "Alineja was still asleep, but you, you were all over the place already and jumpin' all over me, yellin' shirty, shirty," he could feel his arms going into the sleeves of the shirt, too long sleeves, "and I had to get your favorite shirt, the AC/DC one. You," another sigh, "you loved that shirt, wore it every day until one day it just … fell apart."

He remembered that. He remembered jumping on his uncle's stomach and yelling for 'shirty' until the man got up and dressed him in it.

"You're not him, you can't be him." He whispered into the Icy's – Uncle Sam's – chest, rubbing his forehead in a 'no' across the guy's shirt.

"Okay," a sigh, "come on, lie down, get some more sleep and we'll talk when you'll wake up."

He was being pushed down to the ground again and rolled onto his back, alleviating the pressure on his hip.

Better.

He stared up at the dark sky, shivering, but not from the cold.

Not from pain.

Not from anger.

But … chance.

A chance that maybe that really was Uncle Sam.

"Hey kid, you awake!?"

Jensen was, but he didn't want to be. He didn't want to roll over, open his eyes and see that all of this was real and not just a dream. Not just some really, really fucked up dream where Uncle Sam was alive and had actually rescued him from those two assholes.

He had always had weird dreams, but this one … this one sure took the cake.

"I know you're awake."

"Th'n stop 'sking stupid queshtionsh." He growled, his voice sleepy and a bit uncoordinated.

He bit his tongue, damn him and his need to be quick mouthed and loud. Alineja would've gotten a kick out of this one.

Alineja …

The Icy huffed and Jensen could actually hear the man smile.

"The day's breaking."

"Whatever."

"I don't know where you got that pissy attitude, but it sure wasn't from Alineja and me. We didn't teach you to be like that."

And that was just it. That was it!

Jensen was up on his feet before he could even think about getting up and he waivered, tilting a bit to the left and feeling like he was on a boat on rocky waters, but that was just it!

"We? There's no we, you goddamn monster! There's no we, 'cause you ain't my uncle, you fucker! Goddamned asshole, stop talkin' about Alineja and stop pretending to be my uncle and just fucking stop. Don't even mention her name, don't talk about how _we_ taught me anything, don't just … just kill me or let me go, damn it!"

The Icy stood there; the light of the rising sun behind his back, biting his bottom lip, his eyes shining green-blue-yellow so brightly as if it were two lamps in the darkest of night. Stoic. Still and tall, hands by his sides, dressed in jeans with a hole on his right knee and a tiny hole on his right thigh. He wore the same shirt as yesterday; dark blue, looking almost black. To blend into the night. To save him.

"Yeah, okay, you're right. You are. But listen, Jensen, sit down, okay?"

"Don't fuckin' tell me what to do!"

The Icy breathed out and made a step forward, but Jensen held his ground.

"I'm not telling you what to do, I just think it would be … wise, if you'd sit down, before you fall down and make your injuries worse."

"Fuck…"

He wasn't a hundred percent, he knew that, those assholes had hurt him in some way and he … he needed to sit down. The trees were spinning, coming closer and fading away and yeah, okay … he'd sit.

He looked around and saw a thick, fallen tree trunk all covered with moss and sat down, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing. He was so exhausted. It had been a busy night. Hell, it had been a busy life and every muscle and ever bone in his body was just fed up with having to fight all the time. All the goddamned time.

"Okay, you good now?"

The words came from his right and he didn't want to let go of his face, because he could feel – even if there was absolutely no touching going on – the Icy sit really close to him on the log.

Jensen nodded.

"How you feelin'?"

"Why do you care?" he whispered into his palms.

"Okay, fair enough. Look, we need to talk, okay? Before … before we leave this place. We're safe … for now, but … Noleih could … find us and I'm not ready for that yet. And neither are you. So, this is how it'll be. Imma talk, make it quick and you're gonna listen. You're not gonna interrupt me, okay? And after … after you can do whatever you want. You can hit me all you want, you can walk away or you can stay. I'm not gonna force you to do anything, it's either you believe me or not, understand?"

Jensen's head hurt. His hip ached, or not even his hip, but his whole right side _hurt_ so bad – he'd slept on the ground for too long.

"Just those options?"

"I don't know what other options I can give you."

"What about a 'you can kill me' option, because my hands are itching to do that right now."

"No, that's not an option, Jensen."

"Well then, I'll take option 'I'll leave'."

"Fine."

"Right now."

He dropped his hands from his face and got up from the log, or tried to anyway, but a sharp pain in his right side and a heavy hand on his shoulder pushing him back down to the tree trunk made it really hard to do anything but stay put.

"Let me go." He hissed, but the man just put more pressure on Jensen's shoulder and yeah, he wasn't gonna go anywhere soon. Not with the sharp pain poking into his right side and an Icy's hand so close to his throat.

"You'll listen and then we'll fix you, I can see you're hurtin'."

"Wow, 'm stuck with a genius."

Jensen heard the man scoff and huff, warm breath directly into his ear.

"Your mom, your real mom, she … she saw I wasn't a bad guy, you know? You're so like her, you fight and you fight, Jensen, and that's great, that's … that's what kept you alive, but you have to work on your instinct too."

"Oh man, seriously? Don't talk about my mom, don't 'life lesson' me, don't … just get to the point, 'kay? Get to the point, so that I can leave already."

"Okay, here's the point …"

Jensen's head was spinning again, his brain feeling like it had dissolved into a puddle of brain mush, his right side was throbbing now, his hands were shaking, he seriously thought that he was going to puke and the man was still talking.

Lies. Lies. Lies. And lies that felt so much like truth that Jensen did puke, but all that came up was water and some more of the apple he had eaten god knew when.

He was hungry. He was starving. But just the mere thought of food made him upchuck again.

And the man kept on talking.

Calm, slow, soothing voice, never raising it, never lowering it, just a steady cadence that was making Jensen's whole body vibrate with anger, fear, deceit, love, family, pride.

He couldn't take it anymore; couldn't take the warm sun on his tight-feeling skin anymore, couldn't take this feeling like he was going to explode from everything the man had told him.

"Okay, okay shut up!"

The Icy snapped his mouth closed and didn't even argue. Jensen guessed that the man was coming to an end of his speech.

"All right, so let me get this straight..." he washed his hand down his face and turned to look at … Jared.

"Your name's Jared, not," he took a deep breath and looked directly into Jared's eyes, "Sam. Not Sam."

"Yeah, not Sam."

"So you're the Jared, the," he swirled his finger in the air, "the man Asshole one and Asshole two were looking for. Uncle Sam, Jared … fuck, no wonder those two yahoos thought I knew you. Knew where you were."

"Yeah ..."

The man actually had the nerve to look sheepish.

"And … and you're one of them, Alineja was one of them ..."

"Yes. Alineja, she … she was my baby sister. She … I … when Jamie died, when your mom died, I took you to my sister and we took care of you. I promised to your mom that nothing bad would ever happen to you. And I tried so hard to keep that promise, Jensen, I tried."

"Did you …" he shifted on the log, trying to find a better position to sit and look at … Jared … and not feel as if he was going to barf again, "… kill my mom?"

"I didn't kill her, I could never kill a human, unless provoked."

Jensen nodded, because he knew how that was. He had killed too, but only when he had to, when he had been challenged or provoked. It was just that, lately, it had seemed that he had been provoked or challenged a whole lot of times.

Humans were getting worse and worse as time went by. Meaner, harder, more driven to fight or die.

"I found her when she was giving birth to you and ... afterwards ... she died. I was just ... there. I heard her screams and I had to go look. I couldn't just walk away. And there she was and," he smiled, remembering, "she was beautiful and had freckles, just like you have and she was brave and had spunk, just like you."

"Shut up."

"Jensen ..."

"Why did you let her die?" he whispered, suddenly not able to find his voice.

"I couldn't help her, there was nothing I could've done. There was nothing anyone could've done. She was bleeding too much, she gave too much."

"Shut up, please just ..."

"She died holding you. She loved you so much, kept saying that you were her beautiful baby boy..."

"Shut up, please shut up."

Something slithered down Jensen's cheek, something wet and warm but he didn't raise his hand to wipe it away. If he'd have done that, then he might've just lain down on the ground and started wailing, the whole nine yards, but he couldn't do that. Couldn't get weak like that, because danger was all around him. Perhaps not in the form of – Jared – anymore, but other Icies or humans or nature itself.

No one was safe anywhere.

"She died, listen Jensen, she died and she gave you to me and I brought you to Alineja. I stayed with you two for as long as I could. For as long as it was safe."

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, just shut up."

He was going crazy. He couldn't listen to this anymore, it was too much. His mom and Jared was there and then Alineja died and Jared wasn't there and his mom ... he didn't want to listen to how his mom loved him, how she had died ... he was going crazy.

"Jensen, man, listen to me..."

"Fuckin' just shut up!" he covered his ears, pushed his palms as hard as he could trying to cover himself with silence. He'd scream if he didn't know that would attract danger.

He couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't listen … he couldn't deal with all of this right now. Not after spending his whole life in deception, pretense. Being tricked by Uncle Sam, well Jared and Alineja, to believe that they were nothing but humans. But no, they had been Icies all along. He had been living with two Icies and he had never even noticed. There were tells, there were signs that humans used to spot an Icy and … he had been so blind, so thick. He had never seen what had been right at his nose. What a dumb-ass.

Not one Icy. But two. Two of them and they'd raised him.

He couldn't breathe. In the whole wide forest there was just no more air for him to fill his lungs with.

"Jensen, calm down and breathe. Calm down …"

"Don't … don't … do … that … on … me!" he gasped, waving his hand in the air, struggling to catch his breath.

"I have to, 'm sorry. We don't have time for you to take another nap, okay? So come on, just listen to me and calm yourself down."

"Don't …"

Jensen didn't want Jared to use his Ice People mojo on him, didn't want to feel the serenity and calm emanate from Jared. He didn't want to be mind-fucked into calming down. He didn't want to be touched.

But he was. His breathing was starting to calm down, his synapses were starting to function as they should, his mind began to swim in such beautiful stillness he felt drunk in the best possible way. He squeezed his fingers around Jared's that had caught his hand and were holding him.

Just one second. One squeeze. One moment of feeling like he could let go of everything and sink into the same feeling he had always had when he had been a child.

Family. Love. Trust. Need. Peace. Silence. Warm touch whenever things got too much, too fast.

Jared's hand felt exactly like it had all those years ago, in all of those days spent walking holding hands so that he wouldn't get lost, all those nights when the world seemed the scariest and the darkest and he'd climb into his uncle's – Jared's – bed and the man would curl up around him, making Jensen lose himself in the warm embrace.

Vaguely, he thought that if Jared would've let go, he would hit the ground and knock himself out. Which, and he had to admit Jared was right, could be dangerous.

He needed to get his shit together, he couldn't get lost in these memories, these feelings. Not right now, when he was in pain and Noah was probably still somewhere, looking for him. For Jared.

Get a grip.

"Fuckin' let go of me …"

He shook his hand, making Jared let go. He didn't want to, the tendrils of repose already wrapping around every nerve ending his body possessed and he couldn't have that. He needed to stay alert, vigilant of more lies, of more trickery from Jared.

The man, and Alineja, had been fooling him for years. Thirteen years he had been living in a lie.

But the lie was what had kept him safe. Kept him alive. Kept him loved.

Fuck!

He stumbled up from the dead tree trunk and hit Jared again, this time his right hook connected with the man's jaw, splitting Jared's bottom lip.

Jensen watched as blood - green and thick - welled up from the wound and ran down Jared's lip, down his chin. But when Jared licked at it, the split stopped leaking and sealed up. Just like that.

Just like fucking that.

He gaped, jaw actually hanging loose, catching flies.

Green blood he knew about, because the three Icies he had presumably killed but who were apparently only playing dead, had bled some green sludge too.

But he hadn't … stayed there long enough to see the Icies heal themselves.

Oh God, oh God, oh God …

"Jensen…"

"Fuckin' stay away from me, stay … don't … don't …"

He stared at the closed wound; it was still there - a bit red – it just looked like it had been made three hours ago and not three seconds.

Jensen's eyes widened and he swayed on his feet, because this was proof. This was ... actual in his face proof. If before there was still some hope, a sliver of hope that all of this, _all of this_ was just an illusion, a hallucination, a dream, a nightmare, something his brain conjured to make him deal with whatever was happening out in the real world … this completely shattered that hope into tiny bits.

"You _are_ one of them. One of them and, and ... fuck, it ... it makes sense now."

It all made sense now.

"Jensen..."

He looked up and saw Jared still sitting on the log, the split lip just a red memory of a bleeding wound, there was still some green blood on Jared's chin, but …

… damn it.

"I," he swallowed and sat back down on the log, "remember all those times I took a bath and," he looked down at his bruised knuckles that were bleeding red, not green, "and you were there and your," he laughed, "your eyes reflected the water, the, the colors, when the sun hit it and ... fuck you!"

Those were memories that brought him happiness, he remembered how impressed he had been when his Uncle Sammy's eyes made all those crazy colors, and how he kept on asking if his eyes were doing the same. His uncle Sammy was a magician and he wanted to be just like him. Those were happy memories and now ... and now they weren't anymore.

"I'm sorry. We, Alineja and me," Jared hung his head and shook it, probably remembering all those years, his baby sister, him and Jensen, travelling throughout America, trying so hard to keep what was theirs, safe, "we didn't want you to know who we were. We wanted to keep you safe, keep you away from everyone, protect you."

"Bang up job you did there, Uncle Sammy, oh sorry, Jared, because Alineja is dead. Where the fuck were you!?"

"I had to run. I had to, they found me and I couldn't get to you. I'm so sorry."

"The Icies killed her," Jensen spat out, sure that spit hit Jared in his face, "they tore out her ... her spine." he whispered, because remembering her screams and the Icy pushing his entire hand into her back, yanking out her … her spine, those were memories that made so many of his nights full of nightmares. Or even sleepless.

Jared nodded: "Yeah, it's our heart crystal, the one giving us life."

"What?"

"It's our life crystal, it..."

"No, just shut up, I don't wanna know, I don't wanna ... just ..."

He really did want to know, wanted to know how the hell to kill these Icy sons of bitches, but couldn't make himself listen to it. Hear it.

He could still hear Alineja's screams in his head, could still see the Icy's whole hand inside of her and could see her spine … in the Icy's hand.

When Alineja had fallen to the ground, he'd run. He'd run to the forest and never looked back, even though he'd spent so many years after that seeing that happen over and over and over again in his dreams.

He'd woken up so many times, screaming for his uncle, yelling for Alineja, but there had been no one. No one had ever answered his calls except some wild animals somewhere out there in the safe distance from the broken, little wild hunter.

"All right."

"You ran." He meant it as an accusation and he didn't even flinch when Jared shuddered and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together between his knees.

"I had to run. I had to leave you two. It was the safest thing, or so I thought."

"You thought wrong, because maybe if you'd still been there, if you'd … fought … Alineja would still be alive and…"

"I know that Jensen! She was my baby sister and now she's dead! Because of me! She's dead because of me and there is nothing, nothing I can do about that! She was …" Jared swallowed "she was my baby sister, Jensen. And I miss her. And I missed you. But … I thought I was doing the right thing."

Jared's voice was tight, as if someone was squeezing his throat and he blinked, as if his eyes were burning. Jensen had never seen him cry, didn't know if he even could.

"So … we both lost, huh?" Jensen didn't know what else to say, didn't really know how to comfort someone, didn't really know how to … be warm to someone, because all those feelings and knowledge had been ripped from him alongside Alineja's spine.

"Yeah, yeah kid, we did."

They both nodded to the truth of that and looked between their legs, down to the ground.

The day was starting to get warmer with every inch the sun made on the sky. It would be a hot day, bright with only hints of clouds. Some of the old folks had told him stories of ships that had travelled up on the skies. Airplanes, they had been called, and how people would board them and sit in them while they flew across the sky for miles upon miles.

He couldn't really imagine that, flying up in the sky. It was reserved for birds of prey and clouds, the sun and the moon and the stars, not humans. Pfft.

"So … you ran too, hmm?"

Jared's voice didn't come out of the blue to him anymore. The man's presence was always there in the back of his mind now, that frustrating _calmrelaxstill_ feeling that, when he had been a child, was just how it was. But later, he discovered the truth.

So, really … if he hadn't been such a moron, he could've connected the dots sooner and realized who his uncle and Alineja really were.

What a moron, what a fucked up moron.

"Yeah I ran. I ran and I hid and ... and they still found me."

"They'll always find you," Jared scoffed, "it'll take some time, years obviously, but they'll always find you."

"You say that like you're really, really sure of that."

"I _am_ sure. It ... it was my Father, our Elder who," he paused, searching for the right word, "build a tracking device into humans."

"What the … what? What tracking device? What the hell are you talking 'bout?"

"Are you hungry, you probably haven't eaten in a while, I have some bread, some meat?"

"No, stop, what? No! Tell me what … what tracking device?"

"You need to eat, okay, I'll tell you when you eat and drink some water."

"You're such a frustrating asshole."

Jared just smiled at that and went to grab a bottle half full of water and two slices of bread with some pink salami poking out.

"Here, eat."

The water was amazing and the little sandwich tasted like the best thing he had ever had.

"Explain." he prompted, losing a small chunk of bread that fell out of his open mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Stop telling me what to do!"

"Stop acting like an idiot."

He finished his sandwich and flickered all the bread crumbs off of his lap: "Just … let's not fight okay? I'm tired and …" grimacing at the crusted puke and blood and probably some piss too that was caked to the sweat-pants. He would need to find new pants.

"What? Jensen? Jensen, how're you feeling?"

"Don't … don't go all concerned on me, okay. 'm fine, just my right side kinda hurts."

"Kinda? Jensen, listen to me really carefully, okay?"

Uh-uh, this wouldn't end in anything good, Jensen could tell, because Jared was abandoning his seat by his right side and coming to crouch before him, looking up at Jensen with eyes wide and soft, and hands probably just itching to touch him. Check for fever or some touchy-feely crap like that.

"Uhh, okay…"

It felt as if he had his uncle back. All that concern, all that protectiveness that always got concentrated on the man's face, whenever there was something wrong. Whenever a problem arose and needed to be fixed.

"Did whatever Ashil did to you, did it feel cold or hot?"

"I don't ..."

He didn't really understand the question. Hot or cold? It just felt really fucking painful, that's how it felt.

"Jensen, this is important. Did it feel cold or hot?"

"I don't know, it just felt really fuckin' painful."

"I know it hurt, but did it … did it burn you like fire or feel cold like ice?"

"I don't remember, man, cut it out. I don't know!"

"Try, please, you gotta try here. Was it cold or was it hot?"

He didn't know and what did it matter anyway? It was done, he got out, he was just feeling some pain that would pass soon. All pain passes soon. He just needed to rest, recuperate and then he'd be in fighting and killing form again.

"I don't know," he shrugged "both I guess. Maybe."

"Couldn't be both, Jensen. One or the other."

He was starting to freak out now, because Jared got that look. That look that often told Jensen there was trouble ahead, but that everything would be okay because his uncle would be there. That look that was part worry and part fear so strong it always made Jared's eyes widen and his voice get even softer.

The side effect of all of that was the calmness that Jared's body projected onto Jensen, and it made Jensen so relaxed that he couldn't even care that there might be something wrong with him. Severely wrong with him, because no one just escaped from the Icies un-scattered now, did it? No. No one, or at least no one that he had heard of. Escape was only possible by death or slavery. Or so the rumors said, but fuck rumors, because obviously those were a load of crap. A huge, huge load of crap.

There was no truth to be found anywhere. About anything, apparently.

What a fucked up world, with a fucked up population.

"Jensen, you with me?"

"Yeah, 'm with you, I just don't know. It just burned, okay?

"Burned?"

"Yes, burned, it felt like it was burning me up, but cold like. Like," he was trying to come up with some decent comparison, something that wouldn't make Jared ask a billion more questions, "when you fall into a really cold water, ya know? It's, I don't know, cold, but burns."

Something shifted in Jared's eyes. Something made him look down to the ground for a fraction of a second, and then his eyes were back on Jensen's.

"You ... uh, you remember that?"

"Huh, remember what?"

"When, uhh, when you fell into the lake?"

"What lake? What? No, I don't ..." he looked at Jared, uncle Sam, no, Jared and ... maybe, if he tried really hard he could vaguely – in bits and pieces - remember crystal clear water, lots of it all around him, inside him. He could remember really bright light before stars exploded in front of his eyes. All those beautiful, soothing stars among all that crystal clear bright water.

And arms; strong, tight, unrelenting, squeezing him around his whole body pushing him up and up until there was nothing but air all around him. Air and light and water lapping at his neck.

"I fell into a lake ... I ... kinda ... remember, just water everywhere and this really bright light and arms … everything was burning cold. My skin … it was cold."

"It's okay, it doesn't matter right now. What does matter is how you felt when Ashil had you. Did it feel like with the lake? Can you remember that?"

"Yeah, yeah like that. Cold but, but burning."

"All right, okay, okay, I mean I can still sense you in my mind, so they didn't hurt you ..."

"Didn't hurt me?"

"Not in the way that matters, which is good, really good. But they still did something. Damnit, I should've checked this the second I dragged you out of there. Shit."

Pissed off Jared? Scary. Extremely scary. He had seen his uncle – Jared angry only two times. Just two times, but those times were tattooed into his mind and he'd never forget them. Could never forget them.

"Okay, hey, calm down, Uncle Sam," he closed his mouth. No. No, that wasn't what he wanted to say. It … this wasn't Uncle Sam anymore. This was Jared. An Icy.

But it made a small smile appear on Jared's face and … okay. Okay. It was okay.

"Can you show me?"

"I … uh … what?"

He followed Jared's index finger that was pointing somewhere in the direction of his groin.

Well, awkward.

"Ummmm …"

"Your right side, can you lift up your shirt and show me. Really low down, by your hip."

"Oh, yeah, yeah… okay."

Fumbling with the end of his shirt, he finally managed to get a good grip of it, his fingers shaking and what was that all about? and lifted it up.

He looked down and couldn't see anything. He could just see his abs, freckles, a bit too pale skin, but eh, and nothing else, until Jared touched him. Way low by his hip, right there where he was ticklish and he squirmed.

"Still ticklish?"

"I don't think that ever goes away, man." He smiled and looked back at where Jared was pressing his finger into the skin a bit further up than his hip bone.

"Does it hurt if I press?"

"What do you think?"

"Sharp pain, or just pain or … I don't know, just tell me how it feels."

"When Ashil, that was his name, right? The one you killed?"

"Yeah, that was his name."

"When Ashil was … demanding answers, it felt like needles, like something sharp, I remember that. And well I guess it burned cold, no hot, so," he shrugged, "you tell me, man."

Jared pursed his lips, getting his 'thinky' face on. That face looked exactly as it had when his uncle had been teaching him math and grammar and reading and history and geography and – oh God, this was really his uncle.

Jensen had seen a lot of crap in his life, a lot of blood and grime and gore, a lot of destruction and darkness, seen what people were capable of, seen what the Icies were capable of, but he had never seen anyone fake to be someone else. Not this realistically. Not with so many memories. Not with so many of the same facial expressions and body mannerisms.

Maybe the Icies were capable of shifting into someone else, but memories? How could they replicate memories? Emotions? The smell, the exact tone of voice, the exact look in someone's eyes?

"Uncle Sam?"

"Yeah?"

They both looked at each other, the pad of Jared's finger still pressed to Jensen's skin.

"You … I hate you so much for leaving us." He whispered.

"I know and you have every right to hate me, you do, okay, and I'm so, so sorry for running away, I thought that I could lead Noleih away from you two …"

"… it didn't work."

"No, it didn't."

"Who is he anyway?"

"He's … he's my brother."

"He's … he's … what now?"

"My brother. We're … we're all brothers and sisters."

"You're all … all the Icies?"

"Yeah, all of us. We …" he shook his head, "you know what? Let's focus on you right now, and then I'll tell you."

"I don't wanna focus on me, you owe me explanations, you owe me so damn much, man I'm having a really hard time not bashing your head in."

"Jensen, look, I know, okay, but you're not okay, Noleih and Ashil did something to you and we need to … I need to know what it was."

Jared was scared, that much was obvious to Jensen. The man was scared of something and whatever it was, it was probably something pretty horrible.

Damn.

Was he gonna die? What the fuck did Noah and his gorilla do to him?

"Yeah, okay, yeah … I …" don't wanna die, went unsaid, but if this was his uncle, then the man knew exactly what was being left unsaid. He looked down at his stomach, raising his shirt up even more and scooting a bit closer to the edge of the tree trunk, extending his lower part, offering Jared more room to see whatever the man thought he would see.

Because Jensen saw nothing, just his skin that was a bit dirty; blood and puke would do that to a man, but otherwise, nothing.

"Are you looking for something … uh, specific?"

Jared was quiet, a frown on his face and bangs of sweaty hair in his eyes and it was really starting to freak Jensen out. He could feel and see Jared's fingers probe all around his hip, and a bit further up, but still below his ribs.

"Umm, Jared?"

He was starting to feel mighty uncomfortable, being poked down there.

"Jensen, can you look at me for a second?"

His fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt and his eyes snapped up from his belly to Jared, because this was it. This was the part where the man would tell him that he would die in the next thirty seconds.

"Good, now just keep looking at me, okay."

He couldn't speak, didn't know what to say, all words just got sucked into a black hole in his brain and he couldn't pull them back. He didn't want to die, not after coming such a long way. He was twenty-three already, and if he could just reach the ripe age of thirty-five(ish) then that would be okay. But not … not this young.

He watched as Jared folded his long legs from his crouch down to the ground, tucked his shins under him, leaned on them and then rose up. Even like that, he was still taller than Jensen, coming eye to eye with him, although Jensen suspected it had more to do with the tree trunk being so low to the ground than Jared being _that_ tall. Stupid tree trunk.

"Okay, just keep your eyes on me, man okay? Don't look down, don't look at what I'm doing, just eyes on me, buddy, okay."

"What're," he breathed, "you gonna do?" His voice sounded raspy, like he just swallowed a fistful of pebbles, but it wasn't that. It was fear, it was the desire to trust this man and a want to not trust him and combined with what had happened in the last couple of hours, he thought that he should've been feeling way more and way worse.

Damn that Icy's mojo.

"Hey, I'm still your uncle, I'm still the man you knew, nothing has changed, just my name. Trust me Jensen. Just trust me here, man."

He licked his lips, never moving his eyes off of Jared's. Those were his uncle's eyes, that was his uncle's face just like it had been all those years ago, that was his uncle's voice, that was his uncle.

Who just happened to be an Icy. The enemy. The killer and the destroyer.

God.

"Okay, okay, yeah ... I ... I can do that."

"All right, just look at me ... that's it."

Jensen could feel Jared pressing his finger into a spot on his side, deeper and deeper to the point where it was starting to hurt a bit.

He breathed out: "What're you doing?" not daring to blink, not daring to lose contact with his uncle's eyes.

"Does this hurt?"

Jared pressed in even harder, digging his finger deeper into his side, until there was no way it could go even further.

He stuttered a groaned: "S-stop…" and grabbed Jared's right shoulder, fisting the man's shirt.

It hurt as if a spike was going through him and he couldn't stop himself from falling forward and gripping Jared's shirt with his teeth instead of his fist. He had to muffle his scream somehow and he would rather bite Jared than his own hand. The man would heal in no time, while he would probably die of infection or something equally dumb.

"Okay man, okay, I'm done. It's done."

He was panting and drooling all over Jared's shoulder and didn't even notice when Jared had stopped doing what-the-fuck-ever he'd been doing and started hugging him instead.

He felt like a child. He felt exactly as he had so many years ago, safe in Alineja's or Uncle Sammy's arms. Whenever he had been sick, whenever he had cried, whenever he was tired and fussy and wanted to sleep. Whenever he was hungry or thirsty, all those Fridays when it rained like the sky was falling, all those days when he couldn't remember how his mom was described to him by Alineja and uncle.

"Stop, please," he begged, because he didn't need this, didn't want to be comforted, didn't deserve it and just one more second of this and he'd lose it, "just don't."

"All right, its fine."

He nodded and raised his head because he didn't want to lose it. He didn't want to scream and rage and cry and do all of the things that he only did whenever he could dunk his head under water and let himself go.

He couldn't do that here, with Jared.

"What did you do?"

"I just had to check if … if your, uh, tracking device, is still there. I mean I can sense you, but," he smirked, "we Icies are deceivers, aren't we, so … who knows what Noleih did. Although, I think I know what he did."

"Please, don't let me stop you from sharing."

He was out of breath, his side hurting like he just got stabbed, his brain feeling fried, his emotions were all over the place but it was good to know that he wouldn't be dying in the next few seconds. That was good.

"He," he snorted, "he called me."

"He called you?"

"Yeah … they, I mean Ashil, he didn't actually do anything to you, he just … pushed the right button and I responded."

"Just fucking tell me what this button is. What this tracking device is, how were you called?"

A few birds flew out of some bushes nearby, a flock of them, big and black screeching all the while they flew up to the sky.

They turned their heads to the noise, Jensen standing up and leaning on Jared's side, both standing side by side.

"Someone's coming."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture in this chapter made by my beta marlowe78.

**CHAPTER 4**

Home. He wished he was home … but he had none. His 'home' had been dead for years now, his home had been the forests and abandoned, half-torn down farms. There was no home for him, or anyone really. All there was were skeletons of cities and towns, overgrown with grass and bushes and trees, carving their way into everything.

All there was were the sewers for people to hide in or the intricate tunnels of subways.

All there was were forests and mountain huts, caves and boats.

All there was were abandoned, run down houses and farms for people to stay in for a couple of days and then move on.

Moving was of the essence. Moving was what kept everyone alive and breathing and surviving another day – of course, only if they wanted that. Moving was what made the Icies lose their trail and stop hunting. What made humans lose trail and stop hunting.

Because that was what they were all doing. Hunting. They were beasts in the form of men, who hunted their prey until caught. And then? No one knew what then. The Icies came and they killed and they ruined the planet … and then what?

Nothing, that was what. Humans adapted, learned to live a new life, learned to live a life that was … adjusted to early mornings and early nights, rainy Fridays and being constantly in the role of prey.

Human meat – sometimes – was better than any animal's; had more protein, tasted like pork, if cooked right. Or so the folk down in the sewers said. He hadn't been so desperate yet, to eat a person. But he would, if he had to.

But right now, Jensen wished for a deer or an elk or a bear or any other wild animal to have been the one to chase all of those birds away.

"Jared," he hissed, "d'you have any weapons?"

"I have your knife."

They were whispering, standing shoulder to shoulder, keeping their eyes to where the birds had flown into the clear skies.

He wanted to be pissed at Jared for having his knife all along and never saying a word, but then again, why would he? The man would've gotten the knife in his heart the second Jensen's hand would've touched the wooden handle.

But there it was. His baby, held so delicately in Jared's big hand.

"Oh my baby," he whispered to the knife when Jared gave it to him and tightened his grip on the handle, "you ready to do some damage, sweetheart?"

"Don't talk to your knife, 's creepy."

"Shut up, 's my knife. I just wish I'd had my bow and arrows."

"'m sorry, I was only able to get this. We'll make a new bow."

"Yeah, if whoever or whatever scared the birds will die."

"I can't tell if it's a human or not, but it's definitely not an animal."

"Icies?"

"I think … I," the noise - so similar to wind chimes people used to hung at their houses - in Jared's head became stronger, louder and he knew, "… yeah." He knew who it was.

"Fuck."

"We need to go, we need to go now Jensen. I'm not ready for this, you … you're not ready. We need to run. Go, now! Go, go, go!"

Jared pushed Jensen on his shoulder and they ran through the small bushes and fern and amongst the tall, thin trees, jumping over large rocks, Jensen following Jared's broad back, trusting the man to know where he was going, where he was leading them. Trusting the man to know a safe place to hide, where they would be able to lose whoever it was that had found them, to get some rest and where Jensen would be able to get some goddamn answers, even if he would need to cut them out of Jared. He would cut them out if that's what it would take; his mind was soaring with the need for answers even when his whole body was screaming at him to stop, take a breath and pass out. He gripped the handle of the knife tighter, needing to feel its soothing presence. He had killed with that knife, it had never failed him and he had faith in it that it would never fail him in the future. He just needed to run, one foot before the other, just run, jump over a lush fern, run, run and ignore the burning pain in his right side.

He knew he'd had worse injuries in the past; broken bones, cuts and grazes, dislocated shoulder, bruises and scrapes and for three days long an eye which had been swollen completely shut that had made him stay inside a large metal dumpster hidden in a dark alley until the swelling went down and he could see.

Seeing was living.

And what he was seeing now was Jared's broad back and tall grass under his own feet.

And then Jared stopped as if his legs suddenly got cemented into the ground and Jensen ran into the man's back: "Uff," stumbling backwards, because: "Fuck did you stop for?"

"Wall."

He looked and saw … a wall?

It was a wall. A brick wall, or so it looked like with grass and moss and tiny spruce trees growing from the cracks. Actual tiny spruce trees were growing out of the cracks in the wall. Fuckin' hell.

"We need to find a door. Has to be here somewhere."

"Where the hell are we?"

"A stadium."

"A stadium?"

"Yeah Jensen, a stadium, now help me look for the damn door so that we can go out."

"A stadium," he muttered under his breath and stepped closer to the wall. A very tall wall. Way up high.

He placed his palm - through some green, thin vines that were hanging over the wall - on the cracked bricks … it felt cold, but solid, even with all the vegetation that was growing out of it.

He didn't dare too look up too much, because there were actual trees growing above his head and he didn't want to even think what would happen if they'd decide to stop defying gravity and fall on his head.

God, he just wanted to make it to thirty-five(ish).

"Found it."

There was victory in Jared's voice and it make Jensen roll his eyes: "Great, open 'em and let's get out of here."

The place, now that he knew what it was, was starting to give him the creeps, he could actually feel the hair at the back of his neck start to raise and shivers start to travel down his spine. There was a huge bricked wall in front of him and a mini forest behind him that hid whatever was chasing them. That possibly hid his death.

A stadium. He didn't know for what sports, but it didn't matter anyhow, because there was no sports. The only sport there was was hunting and surviving.

And he always played his A-game in that sport, won a couple of World Cups too.

"Jared!"

The deep, booming voice made them turn around and Jared's hand slip off of an iron barred door.

"Jared, come on, now! Don't run away! Again!"

"Noleih," Jared whispered to Jensen and started to pull on the iron bars again, slowly getting the rusted hinges to break away from the brittle bricks.

"Jensen, talk some sense into the guy, why don't you!"

Jensen took a deep breath and opened his mouth to 'talk' something all right, but a hand clamped over his half open mouth and he looked at Jared, rolling his eyes at the man's: "Shhh, don't."

Damn it, because he really, really wanted to. He had all kinds of great comebacks and some really thought out cuss words, but his uncle … always a party pooper.

He licked Jared's palm, winking at Jared when the man grimaced and whispered: "Asshole."

He narrowed his eyes and pulled down his uncle's hand, closing his mouth. Fine. So he'll be quiet. He could be quiet; wasn't his style though but he had a sense that this wasn't his fight.

"Come on you guys, just come out from wherever you're hiding and we'll talk."

Jared rolled his eyes, because he knew that talking was the very last thing his brother wanted to do. He knew Noleih, knew him very well, as he had slept hand in hand with the man for millions of years. Noleih had been on his left side, while Alineja had been on his right and the three of them had slept under the ice and the cold water for so many years, he knew both of them and in return, they both knew him.

But while Noleih became the one to seed fear among their kind; fear of the humans and thus making some of their kind scared of humans to such a degree that they killed, they destroyed and enslaved, Alineja became Jared's right hand. His companion, his most trusted advisor, his teacher, his beloved little sister who fought against their own kind, who tried to reason with their kind, who tried to make them see that humans … they knew nothing. That they weren't dangerous, not like Noleih made them be.

That humans tracking devices malfunctioning wasn't some big master plan of humans to destroy them but it was simply a … glitch.

But Noleih had many followers, while Jared and Alineja had only a handful.

"Come on, brother, haven't you seen reason by now?! The humans are dangerous, they are killing us!"

Jared wanted to shout back all of the things that he had already said to his brother on so many occasions, but what would be the point? The stubborn man hadn't listened to a word Jared had said then, so why would he now?

"You taking care of that human won't end well! He will kill you, do you understand me?! He had killed his own kind, what makes you think he won't kill you too, brother?! You're his enemy, Jared! My brother, please see reason!"

Jared closed his eyes and pulled on the iron bar he was gripping with white knuckles. The old, rusty hinges gave way and he stood there with the door in his hands and his brother's words taunting him.

Family could always hurt you where it truly does hurt the most.

He looked at Jensen seeing nothing; the kid's face was a blank which could mean many things, the knife in Jensen's hand was pointed towards the ground, the kid's whole body poised for an attack no matter where it would come from. Jared didn't have time to think about what was going through Jensen's head. Not with Noleih coming closer and closer to them with the intent to kill them. Rip them apart and get rid of two more pests.

He threw the door away, into some hazel that was growing to the right and pushed Jensen through the door into a narrow, dark corridor.

"Run and don't look back, Jensen!"

Noleih's: "Little brother!" followed them into the darkness.

It wasn't all that dark once their eyes adjusted, just dim and when they rounded a corner they could see light at the end of the tunnel they were running in. They had to dodge some broken doors that were lying all over the place, some benches and some lockers, but the light was coming closer and closer the faster they ran and when they stumbled onto a road, they stopped.

Hands on their knees and trying to fill their lungs with fresh air, they looked up and down the road, seeing nothing but some birch trees and some cars that were only scrap metal now.

"Where to?"

"I don't know. Left?"

"Okay."

They went left, hoping it was the right choice.

Jared kept looking back but there was no sign of his brother. There was no sign of anyone, really, the street empty, except for some long dead cars and buildings where no one lived in anymore. It was all overgrown with vegetation; branches poking out of broken windows, pigeons making soft, throaty cooing noises all around them, the sun blasting them with heat that was almost unbearable when it reflected off the cracked asphalt beneath their feet.

The street was long, lit by the bright yellow sunlight; quiet, everything looking as if was made of stone.

But they could still be watched. Jared couldn't sense any humans, but that didn't mean that there were none, they could just be the ones whose trackers malfunctioned and had been taken out.

"We need to find somewhere to hole up."

Jensen's words were quiet and the kid's voice serious. This was, after all, Jensen's territory. This was what the kid had been doing all of … all of the time that Jared had been gone. That Alineja had been gone. Travelling, moving, searching for safe places to stay in and avoiding humans and Icies alike.

While Jared'd been up north in the Arctic, making plans and strategizing, Jensen had been down south, surviving.

The kid was strong and tough, Alineja had taught him well, had taught him everything they had agreed that Jensen needed to know. He just didn't know where all that attitude came from, not that he didn't like it, but he bet that it got Jensen in a lot of troubles throughout the years.

The kid grew some balls, he had to give him that.

"We need to find something that's away from the road, but not the sewers and not the subway tunnels. I'm not in the mood to kill anyone right now, and those places are crawling with things to kill."

The flippant way Jensen said that, like it meant nothing that by 'things' he meant humans … it made something in Jared's heart pinch. Jensen had killed his own kind. Jensen would kill his own kind … to protect himself. To save himself.

Noleih, get out of my head!

Noleih was probably grinning somewhere inside of his damaged mind for planting the seed of doubt in Jared's head.

Big brothers were infuriating!

But no, Jensen would never kill him. The kid, for all his courage and will to live, would never go against his heart. And Jared was family.

Wasn't he?

"Yeah, yeah we … need a house or something."

"Can't go back to the house I've been in when your bro and his friend found me and damn it, I had clothes there. And food and a towel and a blanket. And a bathtub." He whined, because damn it, he loved that bathtub.

"Yeah, well … I've been there."

Jensen stopped and turned around: "You what?"

"I've been there, took some of your food and water, took your knife. Didn't take your bow sorry or your clothes, but they were wet anyway. We'll find you some new pants and get more food."

"Damn right we will, but not before you're gonna tell me everything," he poked Jared in his chest with the point of his knife, smirking inside at the man's twitch, "and I mean everything about the tracking device, about what the fuck your brother wants and … and just everything."

"After," Jared puffed out his chest, getting the tip of the knife to push harder at his skin, just to make Jensen realize that he wasn't scared, that he wouldn't hurt Jensen, "we find a safe place to stay, I'll tell you, I promise."

"You better and I don't care if a tornado interrupts us this time, you're talking."

"Fine."

"Damn right, it's fine."

The knife went away, but Jared could still feel it pressing into his chest; the grit on this kid … Alineja did right by him.

Jared had been all over the world, before the Earth became like this and after and it never ceased to surprise him just how much damage they had done when they had risen. How seriously they'd messed up. How much their fear had damaged this once so beautiful planet. If they'd known, they would never ever have risen.

But fear for their own existence and a pinch of curiosity and here they were now.

Hated. Killers. Hunted and hunters.

He would make this right. Somehow he would make this right. He had to. He had to make his brother see reason, see what they had caused, simply by being so scared. But Noleih had taken a step further than that. He became greedy, developed a desire to rule over this stunning planet, over the humankind. Got a thought stuck into his head that he was the one to ensure that this planet would be their home, as they were here first.

Stupid, stupid, greedy little man.

Jared had to stop him. One way or another, Noleih had to be stopped. His followers needed to be stopped.

Jared and his own followers were doing their best to keep anything, everything of what the Icies were doing to the humans a secret; they spread false rumors, they spread lies and half-truths, they hid facts and scattered a lot of misinformation around. What the humans knew, or thought they knew, were all lies mixed with pinches of truth. But mostly lies.

They couldn't have the humans know how to kill the Icies, they couldn't have their own brothers and sisters, even if swayed to the wrong side as they were, be killed. They were siblings, they loved each other, no matter what. Their Father … Jared felt as if he had betrayed him. He had let his own brethren fall apart, had let his siblings develop … human emotions. Fear, greed, love, hatred.

He apologized to his Father every time the sun went down and every time the sun came up, even though he knew that his Father couldn't hear him, couldn't answer him, but in some way … he needed to say sorry. Say 'I'll bring them back, I promise Father.'

The street they were walking on looked as if it was carved through a thick forest. There were some side streets, gapping like big, black open mouths that could spit out an enemy at any moment.

He shook his head. He had walked this same street so many years ago, when it was still bristling with life; cars and people and that one hot dog stand with a black-haired man, who sold him the most delicious hot dog with a lot of mustard and mayonnaise.

Memories were never okay, memories made his heart hurt. Memories made him see just how many thing Jensen would never get to experience. No hot dogs with extra mustard and mayonnaise for Jensen. No music, no movies, no chocolate cakes for Jensen.

He looked at the kid who was walking beside him and ached. Wanted to say sorry for so many things, but … Jensen couldn't miss – not really – what he never had.

So he bit his tongue and kept on walking, mindful of the cracks beneath his feet. While breaking or twisting his ankle wouldn't kill him, it would still hurt and incapacitate him for a few hours.

Hours that they didn't have.

"Wait, stop."

A heavy hand slapping on Jensen's chest, right between his nipples stopped him mid-stride.

"What?" he snapped.

They needed to find shelter before dusk, damn it; he had needs. Like a need to piss, a need for food, a need to sit down, curl up and cry over the pain in his side. Like a need to get his soiled pants off of him, because he could smell the proof of his fear emanating from them like smoke, a need to get away from the sun and the heat that was making him sweat buckets and giving him a sunburn all over his nape. He wasn't an Icy, he couldn't go a day without at least a bite of food and some rest. He was a human; just a human. A tired, sleepy, in need of rest human being.

"Humans, I … I can feel 'em."

His eyes widened and he gripped his knife tighter, scanning his surroundings. There were trees everywhere, and broken cars and windowless houses and back allies and: "Where?"

"Left."

They didn't even have the time to turn around, before a shaky voice called out: "Drop, d-drop the, the knife."

Jensen smirked at a bend street light, turned around and threw his knife, blade first, hitting a girl directly into her heart. Straight in, no pussyfooting around bone and muscles and breasts.

Her eyes widened on her dirt covered face, before she dropped down to the ground; legs folding, arms flailing, long, black hair spilling around her head and her thin, dirty shirt forming a red stain around the protruding knife.

"What the hell? Jensen!" his biceps were gripped with bruising strength and he winced, looking up at Jared's face. Which was a mistake, because the Icy's eyes were gleaming in the sunlight; blue, green, orange, spots of yellow. He swayed on his feet, swayed right into Jared's hands that were probably the only thing holding him up right then.

"She," Jared twisted around to look at the body, grimacing at the sight, and then turning back, chasing Jensen's eyes and finding them be stone cold, "… she was just a kid, Jensen. A child."

Jared pressed his fingers deeper into Jensen's biceps before letting go and walking closer to the body and Jensen could see it now; just a kid, couldn't have been more than fifteen or so. Maybe even younger.

"Trust me," his voice was cold, sucked of all emotions, "she would've killed us." He sidestepped Jared and crouched down to pull the knife out of her still heart. He didn't dare look into the girl's face. He didn't need her eyes to haunt his dreams. He did what he had to do.

"Jensen, we didn't teach you to kill kids. To kill just like that."

Jensen wiped the blade into the kid's blue shirt and stood up, snarling directly into Jared's face, pointing tip of the still warm knife at the man's heart again: "You left me alone. I taught myself kill or be killed. And I really don't wanna die. Not yet."

"Okay, all right."

Jared didn't want to argue, didn't want to provoke, didn't want to subdue Jensen in any way or form. So he dropped it. For now.

Jensen blinked and redrew the knife, hefting it in his hand. It felt heaver. One soul heavier.

"Jojo!"

A female voice called from somewhere in the nearby back ally, her voice on the brink of tears making them turn around. There was a young girl, thin and small, couldn't be more than twelve running from the darkness straight at them. Straight to the body lying on the ground before them.

"Jojo!"

She stopped, seeing them first and her eyes widened, becoming wetter than they'd been, but then she saw the girl – Jojo – lying on the asphalt.

"Jojo!" it was a scream and a wail as she ran towards the kid and knelt before the cooling body.

She didn't see them after that - probably didn't give a rat's ass if they killed her too or not – even if they were standing by Jojo's sprawled legs.

She didn't see them as they walked away, her hands holding Jojo around her still chest, her forehead leaned on her bleeding heart.

"I did what I had to." Jensen muttered as they started walking down the road, the girl's sobs getting quieter and quieter the further they went.

But they would stay embedded in Jensen's brain forever. Just one more sound to accompany an array of others. One more soul to haunt him in the shadows.

He twitched when Jared put his hand on the small of his back, lightly pushing him forward and to the right, around a corner. There were signs of a traffic light there, something that had no meaning in the here and now.

He leaned into the touch; one second, two, three and then fastened his step.

He didn't need comfort or understanding. What he needed was to clean his own blood, sweat, piss and vomit off of himself and get some shut eye.

He was itching all over and he knew that it wasn't just the dirt on the outside making him wanna scratch his skin off.

This was getting familiar. Scary familiar. That tree, that bush, that wreckage of a house.

That house.

"Wait, what the hell?"

"It's the house you've been staying at."

"I can fuckin' see that. Why're we here?"

He couldn't stop staring at it. It was the same house he had been … wait …

"How long," he swallowed, "how long was I … ya know?"

"Two days."

"Two …" he couldn't breathe all of a sudden. Two days? Two? Seriously? That … that was a long time to be in the hands of Psycho number one and Psycho number two. Two days, but he didn't crack. He didn't die.

"Jensen, calm down."

"Two days?"

"Yeah …"

"We can't … can't stay here, you stupid or somethin'? They, Noah, he, he knows this place. He found me here. How dumb are you? You know what, don't answer that, just … fuck."

He was pinned to the ground before he could draw his next breath, his back hitting the asphalt hard, taking his breath away and all he could do was lean his head back to the palm that prevented him to spill his brains all over the road and look up at Jared's face that was inches from his own, but still far enough away so that he didn't need to cross his teary eyes to see the man.

"Now you're gonna listen to me, Jensen. I know what I'm doing, you hear me? So stove this attitude when around me and we'll be just fine."

His hands were pinned to his heaving chest, the whole of Jared's weight on him, their legs intertwined and there was no escape. He couldn't even find enough leverage to flip them.

"I know I left. I know you had to do a lot of things to survive. I know, believe me, I know Jensen, but that doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that. 'm not here to hurt you, never was."

He scoffed when Jared said 'things' as if the man was afraid to say killed, stole, maimed. He huffed and tried to head butt Jared, but the man was faster and pulled his head back, before Jensen could make impact.

"Jensen, stop it. Just stop it, all right?"

Jensen closed his eyes, twisted his head up trying to get more air into his lungs and whispered: "I can't stop."

"Why not?"

"I … because … I don't wanna die."

He opened his eyes and saw Jared open his mouth to say something, but he was faster: "Get offa me," because he didn't want to listen to whatever Jared was about to say. He didn't need any lectures on anything, especially on his view of life and death and the messed up shit that was his mind. He didn't need that and he especially didn't need that from Jared. He seriously didn't have the patience or the desire to listen to some more of the man's psycho mumbo jumbo.

"Okay, okay."

"Get off!" he yelled when Jared hadn't moved an inch, still constricting his breathing and making him very, very uncomfortable.

"Okay, but promise me …"

"I aint' gotta promise you anything."

Jared sighed: "Then do it for Alineja."

"Fuck you." He growled and pushed at Jared, but the man was like a boulder lying on top of him. A solid, unmoving mass of soft eyes and calm voice.

It was grating on his nerves and he wanted nothing more than to punch the living shit out of the man.

But he was right. Alineja would've dusted his hide if he'd ever spoken to her like this.

"Fine. For Alineja."

He'd do anything for her, even if she had been an Icy, even if she had lied to him, even if she deceived him … but she didn't deserve to die. Not like how she did.

Jared climbed off of him and offered him a hand to pull him up. He'd rather spit on that hand than take it, but for Alineja …

… the calm that rushed all over him made him stumble a little, but Jared held tight.

"Stop … stop using your mojo on me."

"'m sorry, I … I can't really control it. I … we didn't know we had such an effect on humans. 'm sorry."

"Whatever, let's just … go find a place to stay."

"Jensen, we're staying in this house."

"No. No, no, didn't we just have this conversation? It's not safe here …"

"I know, but I know my brother. I know that he thinks that you and I are probably miles away from here already. He'd never even consider us going back here. Trust me."

He was still sceptic, because what a dumbass plan, but okay. For Alineja he would try and … besides, Noah was after Jared. Maybe if he got the man, he'd leave Jensen alone.

"Fine then."

"Fine."

This was such a stupid plan, it was a high risk to do this, go back to the house where he'd been found, but in a crazy, weird, coo coo and bananas kinda way, it sounded smart too, because really – who would be so insane to go back?

No one, yet apparently Jensen.

Everything was just as he'd left it. His beautiful bow and quiver were still leaned to the wall next to the 'bed', his clothes were still soaking in the tub and he blushed a bit remembering that there was also his jizz in there – yikes – but he still pulled the clothes out, wrung them out and arranged them to hang off of wires poking out of broken walls.

He removed the shirt he had been wearing and scooped up some water – dirty, dirty come filled water – and poured it down his chest, removing the crusted blood and grime and three days' worth of sweat.

He grimaced, wishing for clean water, clean hot water, but he clenched his jaw. He had to get somewhat clean and this was the only way.

He pulled off his soiled sweats and couldn't look down. He didn't want to know how dirty his junk was, he just stepped into the bathtub, scooped up some water and shut his eyes, when he felt his pubic hair feel as if it had dreads. He hoped no lice started to breed down there, because that would just be fan-fucking-tastic.

"Ssshit." He hissed, because it was freezing cold but he gritted his teeth and cleaned himself as best as he could, letting the water run down his legs and back to the tub.

"Shit."

It smelled awful, like something had died in it, but it was all he had, although the first river or a stream he'd come across, had his name on it. He would jump in it, no matter if it ran up or down, if it was hot or cold, if it was full of flesh eating fish or not, he was going to jump in and get properly cleaned.

He had found some semi-clean boxers – weren't his, found them in the same hut as the towel – and put them on. It would have to do, until his clothes would dry.

He wanted to throw the sweats into the water too, because clothes were scarce and hard to come by, but … they would probably always remind him of what a damn failure he was; allowing himself to be caught like that, allowing himself to be tortured. Fucking hell.

He wanted to forget all of that, wanted to learn from it and then forget about it, only the lesson to remain. Only the anger – he wanted to keep that, let it feed him for as long as it would take him to rip Noah's spine right out of his back.

He threw the sweats into the corner, to rot.

Jared was sitting on the plank that served as the bed, his knees tucked all the way up to his ears, head in his hands.

It was a sad sight, watching his … watching Jared be like that. Sad, tired and miserable. Haunted. Weighted down by years and years of living among family who wanted him dead.

He shook those thoughts away, crossed his arms at his chest and leaned on the door frame, being as far away as he could from the Icy: "We need to talk, Jared, so … talk."

Jared's head snapped up from his hands: "Yeah, yeah we do. Sit down," and he looked beat; a man defeated by his demons. Tired. So tired and if anyone knew how that felt, it was Jensen. A piercing pain shot through his heart, seeing Jared be like that. It was a feeling he had long forgotten; compassion.

"Sure."

He sat down next to Jared, pressing their shoulders together. Jared had lit up some candles, the flames flickering and casting shadows on the walls, but they didn't look as if they wanted to grab him and drag him kicking and screaming into the abyss.

His uncle's – Sam's – fuck, Jared's presence had always kept them away. Even when he had been a child and wherever he had stayed; be it a cave, a house or a forest, his uncle's presence, Alineja's presence … it kept fear away.

Up until now, he never really knew, never really understood just how much they both kept him sheltered, hidden, in peace.

Jared cleared his throat and his voice held a cadence of someone telling their child a bedtime story. Alineja had used that tone often.

"We slept under the ice up … up in the Arctic, well you call it Arctic, we just," Jared shrugged, "just see ice, a place where it's really quiet. So quiet, just the ice moving. We … we, uh, we were there for years and years, you understand? My kind, we came from darkness that got split by light and we ended up … here. We laid down on the first," he made quote-y fingers, because back then, they didn't know it was a planet "'planet' we saw. And slept. And then … we felt tremors, but we felt that a lot, but this was different. So we went to see. And we saw, Jensen."

He looked at Jensen then, the candle light dancing on the man's face that was set in a hard line, jaw clenched and eyes looking straight ahead.

"We saw the very first of your kind. Our Father, our Elder … he knew, somehow, I don't know how, but he knew that you'd stay. That you would never go away. So," he took a deep breath, "we had to monitor you. We didn't know how dangerous or not you'd become."

"What tracking devices? Just tell me."

Jensen's voice didn't sound like his voice; it was too hoarse, too weak and when Jared sighed, he wanted to punch the man in his neck, to stop all of these … these words flowing out of Jared's mouth like a damn fairytale.

"After my Father put the tracking device into the … the human … my Father died. He was our leader, he," he shook his head, not wanting to remember the horrible sight of his Father crumbling into broken crystals and dust, "and then I took his role. I'm the Elder of our kind now."

Jensen licked his lips and whispered: "Fuck …" to the wall in front of him, because he couldn't look at Jared. The man wasn't just an Icy, he was … their fuckin' leader. And fatherless, just like him.

"Your mom?"

"Died, when the light … we never found her."

Motherless. And fatherless. Just like him and he knew the pain of that. Knew how it was to have that kind hole inside of you. There was never anything that could ever fill it up; not even when Alineja or Jared were telling him stories of his mom … that just made that hole grew bigger and bigger.

"Okay…"

Jared cleared his throat: "And then the tracking devices stopped working on some humans, not all, you see, but some which made us terrified. Not all of us, some of us still believed that it was nothing, that humans knew nothing about us, didn't even know that we were on this planet. But," he took a deep breath, "others got scared and it was my job to protect them. My job to keep us all safe. So we chose to rise and see what was happening. We observed for a while, but," he shrugged, "some were too eager, too scared that humans knew about us and were trying to harm us. Some of my sisters and brothers thought that humans were trying to kill all of us."

"Your brother, uhh, Noah?"

"Noleih? Yeah, he … he's the one who leads them. They're the ones who kill people, kill even their own. They are killing our brothers and sisters, they are killing our family … their own kin." Jared took a deep breath and shuddered, "They're the ones who want to kill everyone here and get this planet back to how it was. With no humans, just … animals and water and vegetation. Ice."

"But … but they can't do that. It's ..."

"… they're trying, but you humans are sneaky, hiding really well. Noleih is trying and his followers are trying, and we're doing everything we can to stop them, we are, trust me. We're going to get our sisters and brothers back and I'm gonna take them back to the Arctic to sleep. I promise."

"Well, you're not doing a good job at it, because look around, man, the world is dying, people are … they're turning into monsters, they … and you're killing them. Everywhere it's just death."

"… when we rose up, we didn't know that all of this would happen to Earth. We didn't know, Jensen. I didn't know. I mean, when we first rose up and walked the Earth, it was still in bloom, still developing into all that it was and even if we did shift anything back then, we didn't know. But now, thinking back at it, I guess we did."

Jensen nodded, because well, if they made the Earth crack like this, then who knows what they'd done when they'd rose for the first time.

"Why did they stop working? The devices?"

Jared huffed: "Because they ... malfunctioned. Ever heard of appendicitis, or well that's what your doctors call it … that's ... it's the devices malfunctioning. And when they do, your doctors remove them. Either that or you can die."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," he got up from the bed and turned to look at Jared to see if the man was making fun of him, because that just had to have been a joke, "wait, so, so … so you're saying my … m-my appendix is your tracking device? The thing your dad installed into, what? Into all of us?"

"Our Father, yes."

He washed a trembling hand down his face and rubbed his mouth, because: "Jesus fuck." and then let his hand fall down to his right side that still felt tender when he pressed his fingertips into the skin: "Fuckin' hell. H-how's that even possible?"

Jared shrugged: "It was something you all already had, my Father just … made it into something more active. We didn't know that they'd start malfunctioning. 'm sorry."

Jensen looked down at Jared's face, the apology sincere and almost radiant on the man's face, but his shoulders were still slumped, probably by the weight of his family slaughtering each other.

Damn, Jared's brothers and sisters were killing each other. And for what? Power? They were no better than human in the old age, before the Earthquake.

He had to sit down. He had to sit down, before he'd fall down and break his skull, because his legs were starting to feel wobbly and his eyes were starting to cross.

"Jensen, sit down."

He sat down because holy shit, everything was just too much. It was … too much.

"Come on, man, lie down. It's okay. We're safe here."

He felt hands on his shoulder and bicep, pushing him down to the blanket and he went, pliant as a blade of grass in the wind, his head hitting the wood nice and easy. No skull breakin' gonna happen tonight.

"'s it, kid, just … go to sleep, okay?"

He couldn't speak, because what … what could one say to all of that? Nothing and too much, so he just lay there and watched as Jared blew out the candles, turning the room into a dark, smoke filled space.

A rustle of clothes as Jared slid down the wall opposite the bed and a small sigh made Jensen's heart skip a beat. The last time he had been lying like this, he had been alone, one soul lighter and clueless.

But now, in this dark room that smelled of smoke and candle wax, the pressure in his chest intensified, the boulder pressing deeper onto his lungs … he reached out to pet the string of the bow, calming down at the presence of something that had never let him down.

He turned around slowly, showing his back to the man because he couldn't bear to be seen by Jared. And he didn't want to see the man either.

He closed his eyes, but the darkness didn't bring any relief; there were too many thoughts in his head, too many things to sort out and put into piles. Too many images, too many ideas. His brain was a whirlwind of pictures that Jared's words had conjured. Crazy crap. Craaaazy crap.

He curled his palm around his hip, pushing trembling fingers into the cold, sweat slicked skin. It was smooth, no indication that anyone had ever messed with that place there. It ached; a dull throb, but nothing he couldn't handle. He'd had worse.

"'m sorry, Jensen."

He flinched at the sudden sound which made him press his fingers deeper into the tender skin, eliciting a hiss and a groan when the tips of his fingers pushed against the sensitive spot. He squeezed his eyes even tighter, trying to hold back a tear that wanted to slip past his eyelashes.

"Jensen?"

First the concern and then the calming balm that emanated from Jared made his head spin for a second before he got back down to Earth.

"'m fine." He gritted out and cursed at himself when his voice came out cracked at the edges.

He didn't want apologies; they wouldn't change one goddamn thing. He didn't need to calm down; it wouldn't change one damn thing. He didn't want to talk or listen or anything that would make him interact with the man he'd trusted for all his life. He just wanted some peace and quiet to process and drown in the soothing stars before his closed eyes.

"Shut up," his voice was as raw as Jared's had been soft, "you're everything I hate. Everything I despise. Everything I wanna kill. Just shut up."

He whispered to the wall inches from his nose, his words ringing defeated in the darkness and in the smell of candle smoke.

"I know. I know, Jensen."

Jared's voice was soft and he could feel his eyes boring into the back of his neck, but it was okay. Better that than Jared seeing his face. Seeing just how much he longed to not be alone anymore, to have someone to talk to, someone to be there for him. To just be there. His heart and his brain were at war with each other; one wanted family, the other wanted to be left the fuck alone.

But Alineja had always said that sometimes the brain needs a time out and the heart should take over, because the heart feels things the brain could never know about.

And it were those words that made him whisper: "But … you were, are … still my uncle."

Those words didn't hurt, not in the way he expected them too. Didn't sting, didn't stink of lies, because once upon a time, Jared had been his uncle. Had taught him things, valuable things, stuff he had to use every day of his life.

Deception and betrayal as it may've been, Jared and Alineja had never hurt him. Never did anything that would ever cause him pain or harm him in any way. Never.

"Alineja and I, we've always loved you. The second my hands touched you," the smirk was evident in Jared's voice, "all covered in goo and blood, the second I heard you wail, and … and Alineja loved you the moment I gave you into her arms. Jensen … "

"Yeah …"

He needed to stop this conversation, before he'd start remembering and start feeling that hole in his chest. That hole that hurt more than anything; any torture known to mankind.

"Get some rest, kiddo. We'll leave in the mornin'."

He didn't ask where, how, when, why. The answers to those questions weren't important. Not really, because they couldn't stay here and moving was of the essence and wherever they'd go, wherever Jared would lead him, it would be okay.

Because his uncle had never lead him astray, even if all of his life he'd been led astray.

"So it took you two days to hear the call?"

"The lines were busy, what can I say?"


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 5**

Nobody knew what was happening in the rest of the world; Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia. Nobody knew if those continents even existed anymore. The last news – words traveling from the East Coast of America – anyone had heard was that Australia was no more. The ocean had swallowed it, flooded the islands around it too, around ten years ago, covering the country with salty water, making the cities, forests and sand disappear below the ocean.

What was happening in Europe, Africa or Asia was anybody's guess and there was absolutely no way to find out. Planes didn't fly anymore, ships, well, ships had a way of disappearing without a trace, never coming back, but Jensen figured that those who survived were probably living as they all were.

Or not. Maybe people in other continents had organized, established a regime of some sort; Europe especially had a tendency to establish different regimes throughout history, so why not now too? Or maybe the Icies had obliterated everything and everyone and the humans in America were the only ones yet to be exterminated.

No one could know for sure. Maybe … maybe there was no more Europe.

The only information they did have was of what was going on in South America and up in Canada and further north. But those informations were something that Jensen didn't want to even think about. He had wanted to go up north – the wilderness there was perfect for hiding, he'd thought, perfect to be alone and hidden from the madness – but when he'd found out that the Icies had come from the Arctic and had travelled across Alaska and Canada … he never wanted to even think about going north ever again.

So he stuck to the devil he knew – central North America. The picking of land was slim, though there were forests and mountains and deserts that provided a good hiding spot, but the only place where he didn't want to go were the coastlines.

People there were insane, and that was saying a lot about their state of mind, because hell, the people inland didn't have all their marbles either, but the inhabitants of the coasts were as crazy as they come.

The sight and the smell of the ocean, the danger of the Icies climbing out of the water had driven them insane, but they hadn't wanted to leave the sea, the coastline that had shifted further up to Nevada in the West and Kentucky on the East. Las Vegas was a seaside town now, as was Charleston in West Virginia.

The water rising had chased everyone away, further in, and the ones who had always lived by the ocean stayed by the ocean, claiming that the salt was in their veins and if they could, they'd kill any and all Icies that they'd see climb out of the water.

Those people were – in some very screwed up way – America's line of defense and when Mount St. Helens had erupted so many years ago, the lava had run into the Pacific, creating a path of cooling, smoking molten rock where the coast people fried/baked/cooked their fish and other marine animals.

Jensen had made the mistake once by going there, thinking he could get some fish or maybe a squid, something to change his diet a little, because the sight and taste of rabbits had been making him nauseated. But what he got had been a sharp, shiny end of a harpoon directed at his chest, a fish net pressing him to the hot sandy ground and a fish hook in his shoulder tearing a hole in his flesh. A side dish to that had been a growled: "Get the hell away from here, boy."

He'd only been able to hiss out an: "'m goin'." before the man had hit him on his temple with the end of the harpoon.

He'd woken up lying down under a shadow of a cactus with two small beady eyes staring right at him. The first thing that had hit him had been the foul smell coming from the body the eyes had been attached to and the second had been the bile rising up his throat. He'd rolled to his left, which had made the dead fish slide off his chest, and puked all over the cactus. That hadn't been his finest moment, but there'd been no one around to see him or hear him. No one except the dead, decayed fish. Only it hadn't been decayed – once he'd gathered his wit and had stuffed it back into his skull he'd seen that it'd been baked. He'd dug into it like a feral animal, ripping nicely burnt skin and flesh off the tiny bones, crunching sand and bones under his teeth.

Best meal in days, even if it had been accompanied by unrelenting heat, a headache, the pull of drying blood around his shoulder and miles upon miles of cacti.

Needless to say, he was never going to the beach again and for the life of him, he couldn't remember why he'd gone there in the first place.

Sure, now, he could ask Jared about the rest of the world, but … he didn't really wanna know. He wanted to live in the hope and faith that there were still people out there, people surviving, fighting, living.

"Hope we're not going to the beach, because man, 'm not in the mood to deal with insanity today."

Jared smirked: "No, not the beach. We're going further up, to the mountains. There's someone I think you should … should see."

"An Icy?"

"Yeah."

"One of yours?"

"Obviously."

"Well," he shrugged and adjusted his quiver, the damn strap was slipping off of his shoulder any chance it got, "you're full of mysteries, how 'm I supposed to know?"

Jared said nothing, just stepped over a metal rod that at some point probably held up a traffic sign or something but was now lying dead and forgotten across some pavement.

They were leaving the city, leaving the tall buildings, leaving the deserted streets and overpopulated sewers and subway tunnels.

They were leaving places to hide and going into the unknown. While forests and mountains were less populated - people choosing not to leave the illusion of cities being safe and the comfort of the buildings – they were still dangerous and one had to watch one's back all the time. One could never know when a noise could be a starving animal, an Icy out to kill or a human consumed with fear of anything that moved.

They'd prepared themselves; Jensen with his knife and bow and Jared with his bare hands and his ARR – appendix recognition radar - as Jensen had called it this morning when they'd been packing up. Jared had procured – stolen more likely and Jensen would live his life thinking that because he didn't want to think about Jared killing his way to new clothes – some new clothes for Jensen. New jeans with a hole at the left knee, a gray t-shirt that hung off his frame as if he were a stick, a blue/white plaid button down and new boots.

When Jensen had asked, Jared had rolled his eyes and told him to get dressed or walk around in his boxers, he didn't care.

They had some food and some water, which Jared also got – stole – when he apparently went out sometime in the night. Jensen should've been pissed about that, about being left alone, but he strangely wasn't. Jared 'abandoning' him was kinda expected actually, what wasn't expected was Jared coming back. That'd been a shock to say mildly, but it woke him up enough to drag his brand 'new' clothes on his body and bite his lips about asking Jared the how's and the why's and the where's.

But even with all that packed, they couldn't really prepare themselves for every scenario. The woods were a dangerous place, both a sanctuary and a tomb.

"So, where're we goin' and when're we gonna get there?"

When Jared laughed at the question Jensen frowned, because really, the questions were legitimate and very, very important and didn't really need to be laughed at.

"Oh man, Jensen you've grown up, but you haven't changed your whining at all. Still the same kid, huh?"

Jensen rolled his eyes, he was not whining … the questions were important, damnit.

"I was not whining, I was askin'."

"Yeah, just like you did when you were a kid. Uncle Sam, where are we going? Uncle Sammy, are we there yet? Uncle Sammy, when are we gonna get there? Uncle Sam we gonna be there soon? Man, every five minutes those questions just poured out of you until …" he stopped, because the look in Jensen's eyes was spelling murder as clear as he had ever seen it.

"Until what?" Jensen gritted out.

"Never mind, let's just go on."

Jared turned around and started walking up a small incline that was covered with overgrown fern, the long leaves of it stretching way over Jared's waist and the man wasn't a shorty. No, Jared was tall and lean and needed to fuckin' start talking.

"No, no, come on," Jensen caught up with Jared and tugged on his sleeve, making Jared spin around, "until what?"

They stared at each other, fern slowly caressing both of their legs in the soft breeze.

Jared bit his bottom lip, because he really, really didn't seem to want to complete that sentence.

"Nothing, Jensen, let's just go, okay?"

"No," he tugged harder, gripping tighter to the plaid clenched in his fist, "just tell me, damn it, Jared."

"Until we calmed you down, okay? Until Alineja used her mojo as you say and calmed you down and I carried you the rest of the way. Okay?"

Jensen let go of Jared's shirt as if it burned. It burned; the words, Jared's eyes shifting from darkblue-brightgreen-yellow and orange back to brown, the thought of Alineja using her mind-fuck-power to calm him down so that he wouldn't cause trouble anymore, so that he wouldn't bother them with questions. It burned so deep inside of him, it fuckin' burned another hole in his heart.

But what was another hole in the sea of many? Nothing.

"Fucking asshole," he muttered when he walked by Jared, bumping his shoulder into the Icy's side making both of them hiss and started walking up the incline.

Jared sighed; so, it was gonna be a long day then.

He was pissed off, anger just boiling in his veins, bubbling up his blood and he was gonna crack soon. They'd lied to him, they'd deceived him, they'd betrayed him … they'd kept him safe and fed and loved and fuck it all.

He'd been raised by Icies and … and they'd been nice and took care of him and taught him things, things that most humans nowadays never got taught, and … he loved them. He loved, loves Alineja and nothing could change that.

"Just tell me where we're going." He hissed and batted at a small fly that was flying around his sweaty forehead.

The words caught Jared off guard, because for the last few hours, Jensen hadn't spoken a word to him. All the noise there was were feet stomping on dried leaves, breaking twigs and harsh breathing. And some buzzing from flies that'd smelled their sweat.

"I want you to meet someone."

"Who?"

"'s not my story to tell."

"I'm so sick of you and never talking."

"I thought you didn't want me to talk. Messes with your zen or something."

Jensen's lips tugged up into a smile, but he couldn't let himself go like that. He couldn't let Jared win without a fight; he hadn't forgiven the man for abandoning him yet and probably never would, but he was starting to feel himself break a little. This was still his uncle, the man who'd raised him, the man who'd saved him from death, the man who knew his real mom …

"Just answer the damn question."

"His name's Odie."

"Odie his real name?"

"Yeah."

"He an Icy?"

"Yeah."

"One of yours or one of Noah's?"

"Mine. He's … he's mine, I already told you."

Jensen looked at him sideways: "Aha."

"What?

"Nothin'…"

"Nothin' what?

Jensen smirked: "Frustrating, ain't it?"

When Jared pushed him on his back, making him stumble with the force, even if it was just a playful little push to get them both moving, he chuckled. And from the corner of his eye he saw Jared smile too and why that felt good, he had no idea.

"How long 'till we get there?"

The sun was setting, the sky colored red and orange, the trees moving in the soft wind.

"Dunno, two, three days."

"Three days?"

"Mhm…"

"That's … that's a lot."

"'s not like you haven't ever walked for that long."

"Well yeah, but I was hoping that Odie lived a bit closer."

"He can't …"

"Why not?"

"Because he's just as wanted as I am."

Jensen nodded, because thanks to Noah, he knew how it was to be a wanted man. How it was to hide even deeper than before, how it was to run even faster than before.

But he had Jared now, although he didn't actually know what the guy would or could do if they'd meet Noah in these dense woods, but if Jared had survived for so long, being hunted by both his own and humans … well, maybe the guy knew how to handle his brother.

"Okay, so … we stopping for the night or what?"

"Yup, we're stopping. We need some food and you need some sleep."

He sighed: "I need like days and days of sleep, Jared."

"Jensen," Jared's voice got serious, "you _can_ sleep when I'm around. You're safe."

"Yeah, well … been a while since I could really relax enough to sleep, ya know? Oh wait, yeah since you left and Alineja died."

It stung, it stung deep in Jared's heart. He should get used to it, all these jabs of Jensen's would probably never stop. And that was okay. They shouldn't stop, because him running had been a mistake. He should've taken Jensen with him, he should've stayed and help Alineja, but at the same time he'd had to leave. Had to plot. Had to make plans and round his people up … he'd had to make all of this right. Jensen'd never understand that, no matter how much Jared would try to make him understand.

"Jensen, I deserve whatever you dish out, I do, but just … trust me and try to sleep. You slept good last night, didn't you?"

"Uh, no, I didn't sleep at all last night, because all I could think about was what you told me and let me tell ya, that kinda crap before bedtime, is a sure fire way to nightmares."

Jared smiled: "You were snoring when I went out to get you some new clothes."

"Was not."

"You were. Snoring and drooling."

"Shut up, liar."

"Haha, you wish."

"What I wish for is for all of this to be an illusion and that nightmares were just that. Bad dreams and not reality. But well, you can't always get what you wish for, right?"

"'m really sorry, but you wanted to know, Jensen. You begged me, threatened me to tell you."

"I did and now I know and it doesn't make it any better."

Jared nodded, bottom lip stuck between his teeth and walked past Jensen to lay down a blanket they'd taken from the house.

He kicked away all rocks that could dig themselves into their sides while they slept and put the blanket down. It would be a warm night, the sunset telling that, so there would be no need to set up a fire, which was a good thing, because if Noleih or his followers were after them then a fire would be like a welcome sign.

And he wasn't ready yet. Jensen wasn't ready for that yet. Odie … after Jensen would've talked with Odie, then they would be ready.

"Imma go get us some dinner."

"Be careful, all right?"

"'m not a baby, I can handle myself and if a rabid squirrel attacks me I'll scream like a girl.

Jared snickered: "You remember that?"

"I'll never forget how Alineja screamed that day. My ears kept ringing for hours after that."

"Yeah…"

"Yeah…"

"So."

"So, yeah I'll go hunt down some food."

"Don't go too far."

"For fucks sake, Jared, just …"

"Fine, fine. I'll keep an ear out for your girly scream."

"Idiot." Jensen muttered and walked through some shrubs, getting as far away from their camp as he dared, hoping beyond hope that he'd catch a rabbit or a bird. Maybe a squirrel or a raccoon, would be nice too. Anything would be nicer than bread and water.

Holding his bow in his hands, having his finger on the string, pulling it towards his shoulder, holding all that power of a sharp arrow in his fingers gave him such a thrill that his body was vibrating with the adrenaline flowing in his veins. It had been so long since he'd held his bow like this, all ready to do its job and kill, that for a second he just wanted to enjoy the feel of the wood and the string in his hand. Such a light weapon, yet it could kill, or hurt.

He'd spotted some small, round poop – rabbit crap – and now he had the rabbit in his sight. He just needed to release the bow string and … and … and … there, the arrow hit a brown-furred rabbit directly into its right side, making the animal roll headfirst through some leaves, its movements stopped by death. It made some weird whistling noises before Jensen ran up to it and hit it in the back of its head. Mercy … mercy he only had for animals, because in all of this mess, they were the most innocent of them all.

The rabbit looked nice, healthy and fat, which showed that the forest was rich in grass and weeds. And if he looked around, he could see it was true. Grass had settled everywhere, now that there was no one to regulate it. He was sure that the rabbit's meat would be rich with protein, something he desperately needed after so many weeks on nothing but bread, funky salami and water. And he could do with a warm pelt for when the cold summer would hit.

Nice.

He removed the arrow and stripped and disemboweled the rabbit on the site, not daring to bring anything more than strictly necessary to their camp. Bears and even wolves were scarce, but they still existed and he'd rather not bring them to the place where he'd spend the night.

The meat was beautifully pink and covered with a bit of white making his mouth start to salivate just thinking about how that would taste in his mouth.

He made his way through some wild underbrush, the branches and leaves of it aiming for his hips and stopped.

Jared was standing in the middle of their campground, looking into the distance, his face full of misery and pain, it made something inside of Jensen snap and break apart. He wanted to know what made Jared look like that, what he was thinking about. The moon had already risen; gray with silver strands penetrating through a thick canopy of trees. Some of 'em were losing leaves, only bare branches remaining, while some were too rich with green.

He cleared his throat: "Hope you have a fire goin', cause I got us a bunny."

He raised up the small body for Jared to see; his hands were covered with drying blood up to his elbows, he still had some fur stuck beneath his fingernails, but at least they'd have food.

"We can't."

His shoulders slumped: "What you mean, we can't?"

"It would be like a beacon sign, Jensen."

What the fuck? He didn't care.

"I don't care. I really, really don't care. Get the fire started and we'll eat this rabbit and it's gonna taste delicious and if your brother or his followers come I'll kill them all, because nothing's gonna keep me away from this," he pointed to the cooling carcass in his hand, "and me."

"Okay, all right."

"Great."

The meat was soft and delicious, baked just right above the fire so that it kept its juices that were running down Jensen's chin and smearing his lips.

"This what I call food."

"Mhmm…"

Jensen didn't care if the fire would attract Noah and his merry band of crazy, because this - this taste in his mouth, this delicious juices running down his fingers - was worth it.

"Jensen, go to sleep."

"Stop telling me what to do."

"'m not telling you what to do, 'm begging you."

"I can't sleep, there's just too much … too many _things_ in my head."

"Do you want me to …"

"… no, no! You do that and I'll slit your throat while you sleep."

"Wouldn't kill me."

"Well, it would make me feel better."

"You can talk to me, ya know?"

"God, just shut up, wouldja?"

"Okay."

The forest was too loud; animals making a racket, bugs crawling all around the edges of the blanket, mosquitoes trying to get to his blood and every time he closed his eyes he saw Ashil's eyes; they'd been filled with murder, hatred, cold and calculating. He felt his whole right side flame up at the memory of the Icy poking at him, making him scream, making him bleed, making him feel burning cold.

"Jared?" his voice sounded gritty, barely above the buzz of a mosquito near his left ear. He was lying on his left side, his right feeling sore, as if there was a huge purple-green bruise there, but he knew there wasn't. There was nothing there but the feeling of soreness and ache. His back was to Jared and he could feel the warmth coming from the Icy in waves, hitting his spine like being whipped.

"Mmmm…"

"What did Ashil do to me?"

"He … he called for me."

"Yeah, but how?"

"You said that it burned cold, like the lake, right?"

"Yeah…"

"He touched your appendix."

Sure, his mind was a bit fuzzy, the night a good cloak to hide just how very tired he was and just how very on the edge of perhaps falling asleep he was, the constant buzz of insects loud in his ears, but …

"What?

"He touched …"

"Like you did? Did you call someone?"

"What? No, I didn't call anyone. To call someone, you have to actually touch it."

His tongue got stuck to the dry roof of his mouth and he didn't even feel when a mosquito bit him on the top of his hand.

"As in, touch it, touch it? Inside of me?" He placed his shaking, cold hand on his side, eyes as wide as the moon, because holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holyshit, holyshit, holyshit … Ashil had … touched … inside …

He rolled further onto his left and puked all of the rabbit and water he had inside of his stomach onto the leaves by the blanket's frayed edge.

"Jensen? Jensen!"

He couldn't stop heaving, because holy shit, hoooooly shit. He didn't even wanna know how, how the man had gotten inside there, how he had touched, with what he had touched. Holy fucking shit.

"Holy shit…" he gasped out, took a deep breath and heaved some more, spitting saliva onto the moonlit leaves.

"Jensen, hey!"

He felt a hand on his side; a light touch so very close to where he hurt, so close he ought to scream and pull himself away, but the palm across his ribs was hot and steady. He remembered just how many times that palm had cradled his tiny hands, how many times that palm had brushed away tears from his chubby cheeks, how many times it had given him food and water and soothed away his hunger.

_Uncle S-sammy …_

He rolled away, tugging himself from the touch: "Don't touch me!" spitting out more thick spit and pushing away the hand that was hovering above his side.

"Okay, 'm not gonna touch you, Jensen," and Jared wasn't touching, it was Jensen who was touching, who was still touching, his clammy fingers wrapped around Jared's wrist as tight as a vice. Jared rotated his hand and gripped Jensen around the wrist feeling the pulse go haywire under the cool skin, "but you need to stop puking."

"Shuuuut up." He growled.

"Jensen, we don't have a lot of water or food, come on, don't let all that rabbit go to waste."

At the mention of the rabbit he puked once more, remembering the animal's warm juices, all the melting fat, running down his chin and his fingers … he gagged and puked again. The rabbit tasted a lot, a lot worse than it did going down. He was swearing off rabbits for a while again.

"Jensen, please, just calm down. Come on, come on."

"Sh't up," he spat out and rolled over again puking out more chunks of meat, because fuck, Ashil had touched inside of him, had his dirty goddamn Icy paws on one of his organs, "shut up.." he whimpered.

He couldn't handle Jared's voice right then, couldn't handle his words nor the tone, nothing. He wanted silence; he felt as if he had just been skinned alive, felt raw and vulnerable and everything was like salt on an open wound.

"Jensen, stop."

He was pulled onto his back and that made him realize that huh, he had been holding onto Jared this whole time, no wonder he hadn't face planted into his own damn puke.

"Stop, stop, hey look at me. You need to stop and you need sleep, you understand me?

"No, please, pleaseplease just sh-shut up." His throat ached and speaking was like swallowing pointy rocks; the images flying in his brain of Ashil pushing … touching his … inside of him, through the skin …

He swallowed down more bile, because Jared was right; they had very little water, very little food and he couldn't be puking up what his body desperately needed. He knew he looked like crap; the moon was yellow like piss and he drew his knees up to his chest, trying to roll over onto his stomach, because fuuuuck … inside of him.

"Jensen, kiddo," a hand was on his knee, he could feel Jared's skin through the hole in his jeans, pushing his legs back down to the blanket, "just go to sleep, all right? We'll leave when you'll wake up. 's okay."

The last thing he saw was Jared's fist flying towards his face but he didn't feel it hit, the darkness came for him before his brain could register anything at all.

Jensen woke up with a groan and something dead in his mouth, but before he could do anything about it, a voice from behind him snapped: "Get up, we're leaving."

"Fuck happen' last night?" he smacked his lips together and grimaced, because talk about disgusting fuzzy teeth and rotten breath.

"Here," he turned around just in time to not be hit in his aching head by a half full bottle of water, "rinse your mouth, drink some and then we're goin'."

He looked at the bottle of water as if he had never seen a bottle of water, his brain feeling fuzzy, his eyes bleary, his right side aching and his jaw …

"You hit me."

"I had to, Jensen."

"Asshole."

"Fine, 'm an asshole, now come on. Drink some and then we're leaving."

He groaned and flopped back down to the blanked, rolling onto his left side and clutching the water bottle close to his chest.

"No! Jensen, get up or I'm leavin' your ass here!"

"'m used to it." he grumbled and closed his eyes, relaxing at the weight of the sloshing water near his chest.

"Get up!"

He did not expect to be gripped by his bicep and all but put on his feet, but that was exactly what happened. He had forgotten just how strong his uncle, _no_ , Jared was.

"Rinse your mouth, drink some and then we're going. We still have more days of hiking. Move it!"

He hadn't forgotten what his uncle, _no_ , Jared – damn it, brain wake the hell up - looked like pissed and one did not fool around with a pissed of uncle, Jared, Icy.

Fuck.

"You on your period?" he rinsed out his mouth and spat on the ground, doing it again and rolling his eyes at how Jared's lips formed a thin, white line and his eyes narrowed into angry little slits.

Jared could look as dangerous as he may when pissed, but Jensen could handle it. Hell, his hands were itching for a fight; the bow hunting last night just an intro to how much he wanted to fight and kill.

Jared's sigh, a breath signaling both disappointment and defeat, made Jensen's stomach clench: "I don't wanna fight you, Jensen. I need you one hundred percent and alive."

"So you'd kill me?"

"I never said that."

"You said, alive."

"I don't have to kill you to not make you alive anymore."

Okay, wait what? Sure he just woke up and he wasn't all present just yet, but what?

"What?"

Jared sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose: "We have to go Jensen. Odie … we need to talk to him."

"You can't just say shit like that and then end the conversation and, and, and say someone else will explain. You can't do that, damn it, Jared. It's annoying the living shit out of me and I seriously wanna punch you in the face for that. You're a living mystery and I'm sick and tired of it."

"I can't tell you something that's not on me to tell. I can't, because I don't have all the facts, I know bits and pieces and if I tell you those, you'll flip out and … Jensen, you're impulsive, you're unpredictable, you're all over the place. You're a killer with blood up to his elbows and you're scared as a little mouse. You're so scared that when I look at you, when I see how damn strong you are, how strong you taught yourself to be, it hurts me. Because you shouldn't be. No one should be like this. And it's all _my_ fault. My fault. Mine. All of this," he expanded his hands to encompass the forest and the sky, "is on me. I chose to rise up, I chose for all of us to go see, I said yes to go see what the humans were up to. Everything is my fault. You being who you are, is my fault too. And I can't … I can't tell you anything more, because I can't connect the things I know into something that will make sense. We need Odie to … put things I know into something coherent. Do you understand me?"

Well then, what can one say to that?

"Well then, let's go see this Odie guy."

"Finish your water and let's go."

The water tasted sour and warm going down Jensen's throat and combined with what Jared just told him … he wanted to puke again. Curl up and puke.

He scratched the back of his hand instead, seeing a red bump that itched like crazy: "Goddamn mosquitoes, couldn't you've killed them when you rose?"

"Don't joke about that."

Shit.

"Sorry, sorry. What crawled up your ass today and died?" he took another swallow of the warm liquid, feeling it soothe his parched throat and chase away the taste of rotten meat.

"You."

"Nasty."

"Yeah, you've no idea."

The words Jared had said bugged the crap out of Jensen the whole trek up a steep hill that wasn't actually a hill, once they broke through the forest line, but the beginning of a high mountain. The soft, leaf-covered ground was soon replaced by gravel and they both had to be extra careful of their footing; one wrong step and there would go an ankle or worse, a broken leg or a fall into death.

But the words; unpredictable, impulsive, all over the place, scared, strong. Fuck yeah he was strong, but damn no, he wasn't scared. He wasn't a pussy who hid under a blanky shaking and shivering and crying because buu-fucking-hoo the world sucked. He took charge, he survived, he lived, he explored, he ate and drank and yeah, he killed, but who didn't kill? At least he didn't rape anyone, he fucked around yeah, but it was all consensual on both sides, and yeah he stole crap too, but sometimes that had been the only way.

Scared? Fucker didn't know what he was talking about.

Scared? Pffft.

He scoffed and stepped over a small bush of some dark violet flowers that were looking all sad like and dry. He'd have kicked them, but he wasn't a sulking child – and it would just give Jared even more ammunition to say dumbass crap to him.

So he nicely stepped over the little bush and crunched more gravel beneath his boot.

Everything was so very dry around him; the sun was high up beating down on him like he was stuck in an oven, there were no clouds anywhere on the blue sky and the gray-white pebbles beneath his feet were radiating so much heat he could feel it go through his boots and all but burn his soles.

Scared? Whatever…

He gripped the strap of his quiver, the weight of eleven arrows more comforting to him than a satchel full of food and marched on, following Jared's broad back. The man wasn't even breaking a sweat, climbing up through all of this sinking pebbles and dry, sad looking plants, while he had a stream of sweat running down his spine and down between his pecks.

Scared? Who the hell did he think he was?

Jensen stopped, wiped his face with the hem of his shirt and looked up at the blue, cloudless sky.

Scared? He wasn't scared, he was petrified. He was erratic, because if he wouldn't be, he'd be dead by now. He was all over the place, because if he'd calm down, he'd kill himself. He was angry and strong, because that was what made his survival possible. He had trouble thinking sometimes, thinking things through, putting things in order, but if he'd stop and do that, he'd be dead in seconds.

"'m not scared!"

He yelled to Jared and smirked when the man stopped dead a few feet away from him, but the smirk died on his face, when Jared turned around, whispered: "Yeah…" turned back around and started walking again.

Fuck!

He ran up the hill and grabbed Jared by the shirt, tugging, making him lose his footing on the uneven ground which made it easier for Jensen to fling Jared hard left and down the hill. He watched as Jared fell on his ass first and then began sliding down the pebbly incline for a few feet, stopping close to one of those violet flowers bushes.

"'m not scared!" he shouted again, watching a line of green blood run down Jared's cheek. It felt good, making the Icy bleed. It felt good … this fight, made him wanna beat Jared's face into a bloody pulp.

He rocked on his heels, the desire to fight making his whole body tremble with tension. If Jared hadn't been so far away from him and he wasn't tired already from the hike, he'd go back down there and kick and punch and slash away with his knife. Maybe even shoot some arrows; he hadn't used his bow in a few hours and his fingers were starting to itch more than the mosquito bite.

He clenched his jaw as he watched Jared slowly get back up to his feet, dusting down his jeans and clapping his palms to get rid of the embedded pebbles. He frowned when he saw Jared pick up a few of the tiny violet blooms, maybe five or so, because what the hell? 's he gonna bring him a bouquet?

He stood his ground, feet dug into the gravel, hands by his sides and fire in his eyes. He knew he looked the exact opposite of Jared, who was walking back up the hill with long strides, wiping away the green blood with the flowers in his hand.

There was sadness in Jared's eyes, sadness and acceptance of how things were, of how things had to be. Sadness and pity and calmness and not a trace of anger. He knew the Icy wouldn't fight him, wouldn't hurt him – not really – wouldn't do anything to provoke him. Like Jared had said, the Icy needed him one hundred percent and Jensen knew what that meant, because it had been Jared who taught him about percentages and numbers and other semi-useless things.

Jensen clenched his still achy jaw tighter, pulling his fingers into a tight fist, tapping it on his thighs, breathing out when his right one came in contact with the strap of his knife's holster. He didn't need pity, didn't need anyone to be sad for him.

"I don't wanna fight you, Jensen." Jared said when he came closer and there was not a trace of the hike the Icy had to do all over again. No heavy breathing, no sweat, no sunburns, no wavering in his steps. Nothing. Just calmness and eyes turning from brown to specks of orange-yellow-blue-green-ochre.

"You call me a coward and expect me not to fight?"

"I didn't call you a coward, don't twist my words, 's not who you are."

"You don't know who I am!"

The sun was relentless, hot and bright, reflecting from the gravel, making him squint from time to time. The heat and the anger he was feeling stomping around inside of his body, were making him sway on his feet.

"I know exactly who you are, Jensen. I know you better than you know yourself."

"You don't."

"These last few days … I got to know you pretty well."

"You couldn't've."

"I did."

"Don't lie." The words left his mouth through clenched teeth and he could actually see spittle hitting Jared's chest.

"'m not lying. 's why we need to get to Odie and I don't wanna fight you or fight with you."

He didn't feel himself raise his hand, nor did he feel when his fist connected with Jared's jaw, all he could see was Jared's head twisting to the side and his own knuckles starting to bleed. The pain came after. The pain always came after.

"Mmmmh, ow, damnit, Jensen."

He looked at Jared rubbing his jaw and then down to his skin split knuckles and then back to Jared.

He wasn't sorry. He wasn't sorry at all, because the man was frustrating with all this mystery bullcrap and Odie this and Odie that and he wasn't sorry.

But he was sorry. He had been taught by Alineja to not hit family, but Jared wasn't family, but he was family. He was his uncle, but he wasn't his real uncle, but he had been as real as someone could be. He wasn't sorry.

He looked down at his knuckles again, pretty sure he might've broken or at least sprained something in his hand, because it was hurting. The sun on his skin was hurting and a cry of an eagle pierced his brain, like someone had whistled right into his ear.

"'m s-s-sorry, I …"

He looked back up at Jared and the Icy was nothing but a solid wall between him and the valley below them, Jared's eyes glinting blue-bright yellow with a dot of orange right by his pupil-dark green because of the sun.

The man was in Icy.

And he was his uncle.

"I know, 's okay, Jensen."

He rubbed his knuckles with his other hand, running his fingers lightly over the bloody skin, hissing when the pad of his thumb caught on a wound. He was glad that he'd washed his hands thoroughly after the hunt, because he didn't need to catch any diseases and rabbits could make him sick a lot and …

"Jensen…" he looked up into Jared's eyes and shuddered when a drop of sweat ran down his neck, "do you know what these are?"

He looked down into Jared's open palm and saw those tiny violet flowers, just sitting there uncrushed, still as beautiful as they had been while still attached to the stems. The only addition to them was Jared's green blood.

But they were still beautiful and smelled of something really nice, something that made him think of Alineja.

"N-no." he stuttered. He had no idea what they were, but the smell was intoxicating. The warmth must've made them bleed some oils or something, because they were starting to look a bit … shiny, oily, wilting. Dying there on Jared's palm, bathed in their oils and the Icy's blood.

"Humans don't, most of 'em anyway. Your medicine women and men, they know it. They use it."

He gasped, but before he could say anything about drugs and nonono, Jared had placed the palm with the flowers against his lips, all but dropping them into his half open mouth. Jared's other hand went around his waist, forearm pushing into his lower back, fingers lightly pressing into his uninjured side and he was spun around, the scenery flying by as if he was drunk. His back hit Jared's chest so fast and so easy like he was made of clay; easily manipulated into all shapes and forms.

He couldn't fight it.

He didn't wanna fight it.

"It's all right, come on, swallow 'em." Jared breathed against his ear, pulling him even closer, making his chest puff out with his spine bowed like that, making his head tuck under Jared's chin.

The mountain peak looked like a pencil this way; a pencil with a broken tip, shining in the sunlight.

"Swallow Jensen, it's okay."

He breathed through his nose, loud huffs of air. The eagle was soaring up high, near the peak and then flying lower, closer to them, its white head stunningly bright against the blue sky.

"Swallow…"

He swallowed down the tiny flowers, not even feeling them go down his throat; they didn't scratch nor tickle. Didn't even feel solid anymore, his saliva turning them into mush that just slid down his throat like the best soup one would kill for. The fact that they were laced with Jared's blood didn't even cross his mind.

"That's it. That's good. 's okay. 's all right."

He had heard of 'crooning', of how people did that to soothe or whatthefuckever, and it was exactly what the Icy was doing. Crooning the words into his ear and he'd feel absolutely mortified and going for his knife right then, if he hadn't started to feel … odd.

The anger, the fear, the fight began leaking out of him – he could feel it all go away, slide out of him and into the ground that was shining even more brightly than before. He fell against Jared's chest, limp and defeated, trusting Jared to hold him up and not let him fall on his ass. He was embarrassed as it was, he didn't need a bruised ass on top of everything too.

He could feel Jared's finger stroke his right side, probably right on top of his appendix and it hurt, making him cry out.

"Jensen, just fall asleep, okay. I gotcha, just go to sleep."

He didn't want to sleep. They had to get to this Odie guy and get some answers and get shit done and sorted and then he could go back to his own life and what the hell was even going on here?

A sob escaped when he felt Jared remove his hand from his mouth to wrap it around his chest, like a too tight band. He wanted to grip the man's arm and pull it away, but everything was feeling like it was made of liquid. His arms and legs were liquid; couldn't have moved them even if he tried really hard.

All was floating and fluctuating. The mountain peak was getting blurry, the sky was starting to get darker and darker and the eagle soaring up in the sky became hundreds upon hundreds of birds of prey. They covered the entire sky, no blue left, descending down towards him with their yellow beaks first to grab him and drag him to hell.

"J-j-jjared…"

He was horrified, he was petrified; scared to the point where he couldn't even draw in a good enough breath and the heavy arm across his chest wasn't doing him any favors.

He didn't want to be dragged down to hell by claws that would tear his skin into tiny strips and let all the souls he had ever tore from their bodies to get him.

"I gotcha, you're safe. Just go to sleep. Go to sleep, Jensen. I gotcha. Trust me, just go to sleep."

Why couldn't the man understand that sleep brought dreams and dreams were never good?

There was no eagle or eagles anywhere, there was no mountain peak anywhere either, there was no gravel underneath his fingers, there were just green tree leaves. Everywhere he looked there were tree leaves and a bleeding sky above them.

Sunset.

"Yuhh drgghed meeh."

His tongue felt heavy, stuck to the roof of his mouth, while his lips just couldn't part all the way yet. They were stuck together with dry skin … he needed water.

"How you feeling?"

A warm hand was placed under his head, gripping his nape and pushing his heavy head up.

"Drugghd me."

"Here, drink some."

The water tasted good; soft and cool giving him back some moisture that he had lost God knows when and where.

"Okay, slow, slow, easy. All right, now, how do you feel?"

He tried to glare at Jared, who was crouched before him, but couldn't muster up the energy. He just let Jared put his head back down to the ground and resumed staring up at the leaves.

"Drugged me. I don't … don't do drugs."

"I'm sorry, but you needed sleep. It wasn't drugs, not … not as such. It was just some … something to help you sleep, sleeping pills."

"You drugged me."

"I'm sorry, but Jensen, hey look at me."

He didn't want to, the leaves and the sky were too beautiful not too look at, not to get lost in the colors; green on red.

"Look at me!"

His head snapped into Jared's direction: "You drugged me."

Jared took a deep breath and released it slowly: "You needed sleep, you needed rest. I didn't drug you, I just gave you something to help you sleep."

"Drugged me." He looked back up to the sky and the leaves.

"You sound like you did when you were five."

"I hate you. I hate you so much."

Jared sighed: "I know you do."

"I don't … I don't even know why I'm going with you anywhere. I don't remember agreeing to go with you. I don't remember … I … I don't know when we decided to go anywhere together. I don't …" he looked back at Jared, "… what did you do to me?"

"Nothing, hey, Jensen, I didn't do anything. I didn't. Hey, listen to me. I didn't do anything, we just … it's easier. Noleih is … we can't let him find you. Me. Us. And we need to get to Odie."

Jensen licked his chapped lips: "You're lying."

Jared looked sad as he shook his head: "'m not lying."

"Whatever."

"Look, can you get some more sleep, otherwise we'll be leaving."

"Slept enough. Where are we?"

"Other side of the mountain."

"You carried me?"

"Yeah."

Jensen thumped his head to the ground a few times, trying to shake his brain into working.

"Okay," he rolled to his side and rose up to sit, "we can go," and groaned his way up to his feet.

He swayed a bit and clutched his head, the ringing in there getting louder before getting quieter again.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Jensen…"

"'m fine, back off."

"All right."

It was always one step forward, thousands steps backwards with Jensen. Always had been like that, even when he'd been a kid. Crying one minute, laughing the next. Wanting food one minute and refusing to eat the next. Fussy kid, he had been, and so damaged now.

Jared just hoped that getting Jensen to Odie wouldn't result in _a_ Jared's death, _b_ Odie's death and _c_ Jensen completely shutting down.

But there was no other choice. They had to get to Odie. There was no other way, even if Jared wanted it to be. He wanted to tell Jensen everything, but couldn't. What he had said had been true. He had facts, bits and pieces of it, but he needed Odie to tie it all into something coherent, something that Jensen would understand. And Odie; the guy had an effect on whoever stumbled upon him that Jensen probably wouldn't be able to escape from even if he tried.

Bringing Jensen to Odie was good. Was right. Needed to be done.

"Let's go."

"Yeah."

"Just I gotta take a leak and uh … and then we can go."

"Check the leaves for ticks before you, ya know."

"What? Shut up … Jesus …"

"Well I don't wanna be pulling a tick out of your ass."

"Asshole! No, no don't say anything. Just shut up."

"Well it wouldn't be the first time…"

"What? Just, no don't answer anything. Just sit there and … I'll be back."

"Tickless, I hope."

Jensen shook his head and waddled to a hopefully tick-free place.

Travelling by night was super-fan-tastic, especially when one couldn't see three inches from one's face and trees just kept on popping from nowhere.

He could hear all the snorts and snickers coming from Jared every time a branch hit him on the nose and he was delighted that he could provide the son of an Icy bitch some entertainment.

Delighted.

"Stop laughing and just get us the hell away from here."

"Hey, you wanted to lead, you lead."

"I didn't want to lead, I wanted to get as far away from you."

"Then deal with it."

Jared could see just fine; every twig, branch, tree trunk, stone, bush, fern, even animals that only came out at night. He could see them all and it was amusing watching Jensen struggle to make his way through the thick underbrush.

The forests – After – had become untamed with no one to take care of them. The trees just grew and grew and when they died, they fell down and kept on dying. Bushes, shrubs, moss and fern, they grew tall and all over the place, reminding Jared a bit of what he had seen when he'd first encountered humans. That forest behind the human on that beach had been just as wild as the forests were right now.

"Ow, damn it!"

"Shhh, keep your voice down."

"Why? You sense someone?"

"No, but … you never know."

Jared was right; one could never be too careful so Jensen zipped his mouth shut and walked, or tried to, ahead.

"Do you know how much further to the guy's place?"

"Half a day, maybe more."

"Swell."

The darkness was oppressive, a heavy weight on Jensen's chest and back, squeezing his breath out and punching into his ribs.

"You okay?"

"What? Yeah."

"You seem a bit … short of breath."

"'m okay."

The darkness with its lack of light and its shadows from the moon and its noises; screeching, screaming, scratching, slapping … with its smells, like fire and smoke and ash.

"Jensen!"

"'m okay…"

"You're not okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, let's just go."

"Jensen …"

"Please, let's just go."

"Are you still hurtin'?"

"What? No."

But he was. He was feeling lightheaded, tired, his jaw hurt – probably had a bruise there the size of the ocean - and his right side hurt too. He remembered Jared's fingers there up at the side of the mountain, but …

"What did you do to me?"

"Nothing, I swear. 's your side hurting?"

Fuck it.

"Yeah."

"It's bruised. I didn't do anything, but I can't make it all right. If I do, everyone will feel it and find you. Right now you're lost in so much noise from other humans, but … if I do anything, you'll become louder. Just … I swear, I didn't do anything. I can't do anything."

"I don't wanna know, I just … I don't, okay?"

"Okay."

Jensen wanted to know, Jared could tell, because he kept asking questions and then backing off, but he wanted to know. Jared smiled; Odie would have his hands full with Jensen.

The night became dawn after what felt like years. They walked throughout the night, not stopping even if the terrain was difficult; steep at some points and littered with thick shrubbery at others, but they couldn't stop.

Jensen was so close to answers, and Jared … maybe, perhaps, really close to ending all of this.

He just hoped that Odie was … was still good and alive.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 6**

When one found dirt and other weird stuff caked around – and inside –one's bellybutton then one knew it was time to find some water fast and clean oneself up. Or soak in water for three days straight without even thinking about coming out until the feeling of that caked eww was washed from one's skin, mind and well, everywhere.

"I'd kill for a shower, man. Or a bath. With soap, like actual soap. The one Alineja used to make, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Smelled so good, flowers and I don't know what else she put in it, but it always smelled fresh and made the skin clean and soft."

"She made those soaps with whatever she could find in the meadows."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

It was always strange to Jensen, what kinda memories surfaced at times; sometimes he tried so hard to remember something specific and nothing came to him, while other times just a thought of taking a wash brought with it the smell of Alineja's special soaps and how her laugh sounded like as she was giving him a bath, bubbles flying everywhere.

Jensen shook his head and marched on. Alineja was dead and so were her soaps. And her laugh. And memories couldn't change the fact that right now, Jared and he both needed to wash themselves up; they stunk of three days' worth of sweat, dirt, puke and blood and Jensen was sure that there was something moving in his boxers that wasn't his junk. He was scared to look; he even took a piss with his eyes closed. There was blood behind his fingernails - blood that water from a bottle just couldn't get rid of – from a few more kills they'd made along the way; a skunk and one more rabbit.

He leaned on a thick tree trunk and pushed himself up a steep, albeit small incline. The rocks were unsteady and he needed all the support he could get, but once he was up the incline, the ground became flat again.

Good, because his legs were killing him, there was a stitch in his left side and an ache in his right, his jaw was still hurting from when Jared had hit him and he was pissed that Jared showed no signs of his jaw hurting from where Jensen'd hit him.

Damn Icy.

He placed his hand on his jaw, testing the pain. It was manageable; he'd had worse, he'd live to see another day.

They'd washed their faces and hands, but in order to do that they'd spend two hours or so – it felt like a day and a half to Jensen - poking a hole into thick ice to get to the freezing water when dawn had broken a few hours ago. Lakes were always frozen solid and full of dead, frozen fish, rivers either had too strong of a current to wash in or were too deep and too cold. And well, they couldn't exactly go and wash themselves in an ocean. Jensen was never, ever, ever, ever going to the seaside ever again. The sight of that harpoon directed at his chest still haunted his dreams.

The shrubbery was getting thicker and thicker the further they went from the mountain, but not thick enough to mask that smell.

"Ugh what the ... do you smell that? What is that?"

The smell hit Jensen like a direct hit to his chest, making his eyes water and stomach roll around.

"Decay."

He looked at Jared and nodded, because yeah, it was decay. Decomposition of a formerly live form.

They followed the stink, wrinkling their noses and pressing their palms against them to try and lessen the abhorrent smell, but it didn't really help. They tried pressing their shirts to their noses too, but that didn't help either. It was just … so damn strong.

They breathed through their mouths, because that was just instinct, but still ... the stench was unbelievable and Jensen was surprised that no animal had eaten or at least dragged away whatever it was, that was rotting.

They moved away some thin and leafy branches of a hazel bush and stepped through it to ...

"Fuck."

There were ... corpses lying on the ground, around a circle of stones - fire pit - and they were all in whothefuck knows which stage of decay, but they were looking gray, bloated and covered in dried … crap. There was grayish skin hanging from their arms and faces in long patches, their eyes bulging out from where Jensen could see and the air reeked of cooked human flesh. He doubted then that human flesh really tasted like pork, because he'd eaten a pig once – sure it was a wild boar, but still - and it definitely didn't smell anything like this. The bodies must've had been cooking in the hot sun for who knew how long.

The stench wafting from the area really was incredible and Jensen gagged.

He'd caused death; killed and saw life seep away from people's eyes.

He'd seen death; had seen dead people and animals, had seen what decay could do to flesh and skin, but this ... this was everything laid bare before his eyes. He'd heard from the old folks, how in the old times they buried their dead, six feet under in a wooden box and he wondered why. Why do that, what was the point? It was easier to burn them and scatter the ashes and not soil the land with rotting corpses under their feet. The Earth was soiled enough as it was.

But this … this was cruel, brutal, ruthless almost sadistic.

He bend forward, his hands gripping his weak knees and tried not to breathe too deeply while still trying to swallow down sour bile.

He was going to puke, he couldn't do anything about it even if he sealed his lips shut and wished for it all to go away.

So he puked, all over his boots and didn't shake off the hand on the small of his back. He couldn't, because it was the only thing keeping him from falling on his damn face.

"You good?"

Jared's voice was raspy, like seeing this affected the Icy too. It probably did, because this was exactly what Jared had been fighting against. This, exactly this.

"Naah," he spat, "yeah."

He spat one more time and wiped the back of his hand across his spit slicked lips.

"Uggh, eww, fuck, what happened here?" He asked when he was sure that speaking would not make him gag again and didn't wait for an answer: "There must be like," he did a quick count, three, three, "six people here."

"Yeah."

"The Icies?"

He knew it had been the Icies, he didn't need Jared to say it. He knew an Icy kill when he saw one, and this was exactly that. Ripped apart, slashed and hacked, limbs torn away, heads twisted in an unnatural way.

Almost feral, as the Icies were. Goddamned beasts; when they went in for a kill, they didn't hold back.

He looked at Jared – couldn't not - trying to imagine Jared do this. Jared ripping people apart, breaking necks, tearing arms and legs away from torsos, listening to people scream, getting blood all over himself … he tried to imagine it, but couldn't. He couldn't see Jared do that, not without a reason. Self-defense yes, because who was Jensen to judge that, but without a reason? No, he couldn't see that. He just couldn't.

"Jared?"

"I'd never … I don't … I … I have mercy."

"I know …"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, yeah I do."

He did. He knew. He really knew.

"I don't wanna kill people, I don't wanna kill my family, I don't … I … I only do it when I have to, when I really, really have to. But I always show mercy. Always, I … I don't make anyone suffer. Not like this."

"I know, but Noah…"

"Noleih is … bloodthirsty."

They both looked straight ahead at the bodies, both letting those three words hang in the fetid air.

There were flies buzzing around the whole campsite, piles of maggots already crawling all over the bodies and even with the people all being dead, there was still a lot of life going on around them. And in them.

He didn't ask Jared why, why the Icies would've killed these people. He didn't wanna know and he was sure Jared didn't really have an answer. Icies just killed, period.

"Maybe," he coughed, "maybe we should check if they have any food, weapons, other stuff we can use."

"Yeah, okay."

It wasn't stealing when you took something off a dead person. It wasn't.

They found two knives and a gun, sans bullets, so that sucked. The people had no chance, none at all, whether they were ambushed or simply approached by the Icies, giving them enough time to try and fight. No chance, because Icies wouldn't go down with a slice of a knife. Jensen knew that now and it made him angry to know that whenever he took an Icy down, he didn't take it down for good and was probably mocked afterwards in the Icies bar. Or wherever Noah's assholes gathered. Damn it.

One of the victims was a kid, a boy, small, no more than ten, eleven years old. Jensen kneeled before him, impressed by the too large knife - more like a machete - the kid was still holding in his little hands and tried to pry the handle from the tight grip. He had to break the kid's fingers, the crack of bones making him clench his teeth and when he finally got the machete, he looked into the kid's wide open milky white eyes and murmured: "Sorry kid."

He was sorry about a lot of things, but the kid was as dead as possible and sorry wouldn't bring him back.

He cleared his throat: "Got a machete."

"Got a warm sweater and a blanket. No food though, they must've been hunting."

He looked back down at the child, imagining the kid being introduced to the fine art of hunting game.

Well then …

… he got back up on his feet and left the boy to the white, wriggly maggots that were crawling out of the kid's torn open throat.

"Good, let's go."

"Do you wanna bury them?"

"No, animals and stuff will take care of 'em."

"All right."

After he got used to the smell and the loud buzz of insects, it was like a wall had been drawn over his mind and eyes, a wall of clarity. Clarity over what needed to be done and how and taking weapons and clothes was a necessity, while burying the corpses wasn't.

Nature would take care of that. Nature always took care of everything.

He stumbled away from the camp site, through the shrubs on the other side, noting how trampled they were. Icies; they made their approach loud and clear. Fuckers.

He walked further into the forest, away from the fragrance of death. He never wanted to end like that and if he ever did, he wouldn't go down without a fight, especially not now when he knew how to kill those bitches.

"Jensen?"

"What?" he snapped.

"You good?"

"What do you think?"

"Honestly? 'm hoping you ain't."

"What?"

"'m hoping you aren't, because no one should be."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I ain't, but me sobbing and mourning after people I didn't know won't bring 'em back."

"But you do feel something?"

"Yeah, 'm pissed at the Icies who did that."

Jared nodded and pulled at the strap of the rucksack, hefting the heavy bag further onto his back.

"Okay then."

"Fuckin right it's okay, although there's this one thing … where was all the blood?"

"Uh, what?"

"Blood? I mean they were ripped apart, it should've been bloody as all hell, but … there was no blood anywhere."

"Maybe it seeped into the ground."

"Hmm, maybe."

They were exhausted and the sun kept on beating down on them as they walked around a large lake. It was a big lake too, who knew how many miles in diameter, but they had to hike around it, because apparently Odie lived on the other side.

Or so Jared had said.

They could've walked across it, on the white, shiny ice, but damn it, Jensen didn't want to risk it. He'd learned his lesson a few months ago when he'd tried to walk across a lake but slipped and dislocated his shoulder. The damn shoulder was still giving him problems, especially on rainy Fridays, but all in all, he though he set it okay. But he didn't want to go through that ever again; lesson learned, moving on.

And besides, if they had hiked for this long, walked day and night, then walking around the lake wouldn't kill him.

Hopefully.

They'd been real lucky until now, hadn't met anyone; not humans – minus the dead ones - or Icies, which was a blessing and a curse because Jensen needed to fight something. Needed to kill something – something other than a few rabbits and well, Jared.

But nothing. There was nothing and no one and maybe, maybe that had been a good thing.

He looked to his left and saw the ice on the lake glisten from the sun. It was beautiful; bright and sparkly and enticing, luring him closer and closer and he wanted to step on the ice, walk on it, slide on it, get to this Odie guy faster, because he wanted answers, he wanted all of this damn mysteries solved.

"Jensen, where're you goin'?"

He flinched at the sound of Jared's voice and shuddered: "What?"

"Where are you going?"

Where was he going? He was … oh. He looked down and saw that his right foot was on the ice and when did that happen?

"I'm … uh, nothing."

He retreated his foot and set it down on the pine needles covered ground.

What the hell?

"You all right?"

There was real concern in Jared's voice, eyebrows raised and question marks written all over his face.

"I'm," he scratched the back of his neck when he walked back into the forest, putting space between him and the lake. Putting Jared to the lake's side, because what the fuck was that, "'m fine. Yeah, uh, you know what? Tell me about the lake."

"Lake?"

"Yeah, the one you said I … uh, you know when I was a kid."

"The lake you almost drowned in?"

The question marks on Jared's face became more a 'why' than a 'what'.

"Yeah."

"Uh, well okay. You sure?"

"I'm fucking sure, I wouldn't have asked otherwise, God just gimme a straight answer to a straight questions for once, wouldja?"

"Okay, all right, just … calm down."

He sighed and tried to calm down, because getting a stroke wouldn't accomplish anything: "Please, just tell me."

"You … you were about five, I think. Alineja was preparing lunch, we caught an elk. An elk you wanted to pet and ride on and it took me a long time to explain to you that it was dead and dangerous when alive. And that we'd eat it for dinner."

Jensen snorted: "I bet that went well."

"Yeah … you, you cried, stroked the elk between its eyes, wanting for it to wake up. But when it didn't you just kinda got tired of it, I think. Went to play in the dirt."

Jensen smiled: "Yeah?"

"Yeah … and then we had to get your hands washed. You were," Jared chuckled, "you were always playing in the dirt then. I don't know, looking for worms and beetles and things. I remember one time, you brought a fistful of squirming worms and dumped them on Alineja's lap. She screamed so loud."

Jensen smiled, not remembering any of that, but sort of … still remembering. It was odd; memories so faded they looked pale and translucent in his mind, but still so tangible that he could see shapes and sizes, colors sometimes.

Worms. Yeah, he could see that.

"Well, we went to a lake, I dug a hole, took me less than the two hours today and when I turned around to get some cloth to wipe your hands, you … you were gone."

Jensen bit his lip and looked down at the pine needles; how soft they were under his feet, how green and brown and the smell, so intoxicating, purifying his nostrils of the aroma of death.

"Fell in the lake?"

"Right through the hole. You were … really small then, no matter how much we fed you, you were bones and skin. So you just … slipped right through the hole."

He was walking, but Jared's voice was coming from farther and farther away so he stopped and turned around, seeing Jared stand by the lake's shore, hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring out at the vast frozen water. Ice that would never melt, water that would never again see the light of the sun.

They were a few feet apart, but Jensen could clearly hear Jared's whispered: "You fell in the lake right here."

He was tired, his legs hurt, his right side ached and his feet felt sore, and he really didn't want to go back to where Jared was standing, but that sentence grabbed him by his shirt like an invisible fist and pulled him right towards the man.

"What?"

"Right there," Jared pointed to the lake, "and I jumped after you."

"Here?"

"We were staying at Odie's, but we had to deal with the elk outside so … and you wanted to go look for beetles," Jared shook his head, "so yeah, right here."

Jensen looked at the lake, at the white ice gleaming in the sunlight and the pale, bright memory of it crystalized into a clear picture of him between his uncle's legs, holding to his uncle's thighs for support with his dirty little fingers and when his uncle had turned around, the sparkly water in the hole _called_ for him and he'd had to go. He'd had to go.

"But you got me out." he whispered, remembering flashes of water, freezing, burning water suffocating him.

"I got you out."

Jensen bit his lower lip and nodded. His uncle, Jared, he got him out. Saved him, when he could've just left him in the water to drown and freeze. But he hadn't.

He hadn't. An Icy hadn't left a human to die, but dived after him, saved him. He could never see Jared kill people out of no reason at all. Jared wasn't like Noah. He wasn't like his brother. He never would be like his sick, sick brother.

"You saved me."

"I … yeah, I did."

Jensen didn't know what to think; his head was hurting from everything, just everything. This whole, what, five days? that he'd spent with Jared had been one hell of a mindfuck. Hell, his whole life had been a mindfuck. And the fact that Jared had saved him, had taken care of him, hadn't hurt him, not once, didn't make him hate the man any less.

He looked at Jared, at the faraway look the Icy had in his eyes, while watching the frozen lake and the tall mountain peaks on the other side …

… maybe the hate had lessened a bit. A fraction of a particle, because maybe he wasn't hating Jared at all, but what he was. An Icy. Who he represented. The Ice People.

"I … Alineja and I, all we wanted to do was keep you safe. Raise you up, teach you all that we knew and keep you safe."

Jared whispered and Jensen shuddered, because all in all, they did raise him up. They taught him things, they kept him safe.

"I know you did." He whispered back and was just about to place his hand on Jared's shoulder, maybe erase the hurt he could see on Jared's face; the man clearly still hurting for the past, for his little sister's death, when a noise behind him made him pull an arrow out of the quiver, place it in the bow and point the sharp tip of the arrow at a man's forehead. It all happened so fast, in the draw of one breath, that neither Jared nor the newcomer had any time to react before Jensen let go of the bow's string.

"Jensen no!"

Jared's palm was dry and warm on his forearm and he didn't twitch when his hand was pulled down slowly. He was still gripping his bow tight, but his eyes widened when he saw that the arrow hadn't embedded itself in the new guy's brain as he'd wanted to, but was instead being held by Jared.

"Jensen, it's Odie."

"Well, well, well, yes, yess, 's me, me, me. All me, just me. Just Odie, Odie, Odie, Odie, Odie."

Jensen raised his eyebrows, because well, he was expecting a lot of things, but this was … not one of them.

He placed his bow back where it belonged, growled: "Gimme back my arrow," to Jared and put it back into the quiver. Damn it, how couldn't he have seen that Jared had been holding the arrow all along? He needed to brush up on his observation skills.

He didn't know how to … what to say to the tall, lean and wrinkly looking man standing so close to him their noses were practically touching.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi, hi, hi, 'm Odie, just Odie. Just Odie, had been for a looooong time, just Odie. Jensen."

"Uh…"

The man knew him, knew his name, which okay, was probably because he'd been here as a child and maybe Jared had told the guy that they were coming. No need to freak out, although every cell in his body was screaming at him to freak out, because this was an Icy, and Icies were to be killed.

But no, no. Jared was an Icy too and he was … one of the good ones.

"Come, come, you must be tired. Tired's no good, must sit, sit and, and, and then we'll chat. Talk, we'll talk yes Jared my King?"

"Yes Odie," Jared placed his hand on Odie's body shoulder and squeezed, "then we'll talk. Jensen, he needs to hear what you know."

"Oh, but, but, but you my King, know more. Much more than me, me, I, I know strings to tie, but, but, but you have pieces. Pieces to put on a string, yes, my King?"

"Yes, Odie. We'll put my words on a string for Jensen."

"Good, yes, yes, yes, good. Jensen must have a string, must know. Yes. Yes, come on, come on. Have soup on the fire. Hope you like snake soup, 's good, gooooooood."

Jensen's head was spinning. King? Words? String? What?

And on top of all that, not all the soldiers were marching in line with that guy.

But he adjusted his bow, tapped the knife against his thigh and followed Jared and Odie deeper into the woods, farther and farther away from the lake in which he'd almost drowned when he'd been a kid. He looked back once more, squinting his eyes, when a sunbeam reflected from the ice and hit him directly into his right eye.

Something in his side pinched and he placed his hand over the spot, pressing down, but felt nothing. No pain, no soreness, no pinching.

Odie lived in a … cave. A real cave with a small entrance, but still tall enough so that neither of them had to bend down to get through.

"Got fire, got fire, no worries, none at all, my King. Odie has fire. Here and here."

Odie grabbed two sticks that were lying on a rock and ignited them with two rocks rubbing together. The whoooosh of the fire coming alive on the torches, send a shiver down Jensen's spine. He knew that sound, knew of the darkness caves hid. Knew of the dangers, knew of the dampness. Knew of the oppressing feeling he always got when being in one; all that solid rock just waiting to crash on him and bury him alive, or flatten him into a pulp.

"You and you. Hold it Jensen, kiddo, hold it … you need light, Jensen, light for the way. Yes? Light."

"Uh, yeah …" he grabbed the wooden, slightly damp handle and tried not to burn anything, especially not Odie's dry, brittle looking white hair.

There were rocks scattered before the mouth of the cave and some even further on, but they were sharper looking then the ones outside. They were dripping with water, some covered with moss, some looking wet without any apparent reason.

As Odie was taking them further into the guts of the cave, following a narrow trail that was wavering around small puddles of clear water, or ponds of rocks and very little water, Jensen got flashes of how he used to live in a cave too and when the man took them deeper and deeper into it, around corners and down some ladders made of rotten wood, Jensen remembered this. This … cave and tunnels and yeah, this wide open chamber.

"I remember this." He whispered, but the chamber was so large that his voice echoed through it as if he had screamed the words. There were torches on the walls burning orange-red, flames dancing in the slight draft coming from who knew here. It was all casting a nice, warm, orange light all around the stone-walled chamber, making everything visible; every stalactite and stalagmite, crystals shining brightly.

"'course, 'course you remember it Jensen, 'course. You played right over there," Odie's twig like finger pointed at the far away corner of the chamber, "played in the muck and the, the, the little puddle there. The ceiling leaks, it leaks bad, sometimes really bad, just drip, drip, drip all the time, dunno why, dunno, I don't, but, but you played there, got all wet and Alineja…"

Then the man stopped his rambling and wiped a tear of his cheek. Jensen was taken aback at the display of emotion, raw like that, but it was only logical. Alineja was Odie's sister too.

A sister he had lost.

Odie wiped another tear of his face; the skin there looked leather dry and brown as if it had been cooked on the sun for too long.

"Odie, it's okay brother."

"I know, my King, I know, she, she, she is all right. Safe now. Up there," he pointed up to the ceiling, "yes, my King?"

"Odie, call me Jared, please."

"Jared, Jared, Jared, no. You're my King, our King. You, you, you, your Father, he gave his _all_ to you, his _all_ my King, my Older, so, so, so …"

"Odie, shhh, hey stop. Just call me Jared, please. I beg of you."

"I," the man chewed on his dried, chapped lips, "I will, I promise. Jared. Jared."

Jared smiled and started walking towards a table of some sorts; everything was made of stone in this ginormous chamber, with the ceiling way up high, so high, Jensen couldn't even see it clearly.

"Oh yes, yes, sit," Odie sniffled, "sit, please, sit. I'll get the soup. Stew. Soup. It's snake, very good. You'll see. It's good."

Jensen doubted that, because a snake? But he was hungry, so damn hungry, his stomach growling for the past few hours and he needed food or else he'd start chewing on his clothes.

He sighed when he sat down on a round rock covered with some kinda animal's skin; he couldn't say what had worn the brown fur, but it was nice, soft and warm, even if the stone beneath it was hard as a, well, stone. He placed his bow and quiver on the ground next to him, stretching his arms and back, popping bones back into place.

He grimaced when Odie placed a wooden bowl filled with brown, smoking water and meat - the snake probably - floating in big chunks in it, because the smell was something to get used to, for sure. But he was hungry. He was beyond hungry.

He watched as Odie placed another bowl in front of Jared and then sat down himself but without a bowl of his own.

"You're not gonna eat?"

"No, no, no, water snakes are too chewy for me, too hard to bite them. My teeth, ah, not as good as they were."

Water snakes. Dear God, but Jensen still dipped a spoon into the soup and moaned when the taste spread throughout his mouth. Delicious.

He didn't care if there was venom in the soup, didn't care if he'd die after eating it, didn't care about anything, because he was hungry, he was so hungry and the soup tasted … familiar. He smacked his lips together, spreading the taste around his mouth … familiar.

He looked at Odie and Jared who were smiling at him: "What?"

"This soup was your favorite when you were a kid. You always had Odie make it. We had to eat it all the time, lunch, dinner, breakfast."

So, he'd been a water snake soup obsessed worm searcher, when he'd been a kid.

He sighed and ate the damn soup in silence. He didn't want more memories to invade his head, because they were making him feel things, things he had lost when he'd watched Alineja being killed. Things like how his uncle's and Alineja's love felt on his skin and in his mind. He just wanted food and then … then he'd see.

"I knew your daddy, Jensen."

The piece of – really tough - snake meat went the wrong way and he pushed himself away from the table, standing up, coughing and hacking and choking.

Dad.

He placed his hand on his neck, as if that would help dislodge the piece of meat and hunched forward.

Dad.

His eyes were starting to tear up and he couldn't breathe, coughing, pieces of soup and spit flying out of his mouth to the muddy ground.

Dad.

He could feel a hand hitting his back, hitting hard, he'd probably have bruises all over his back come tomorrow, but it was helping.

Dad.

He fell down to his knees, his fingers getting sucked into the soft mud, but he didn't care, because one hard clap on his back and he spat out the tiny piece of meat.

And then he threw up the rest of the soup.

Through his heaves, he could hear Odie's soft voice say: "Still a puker, the kiddo, eh, always was a puker, always, nothing stayed in that kid for long, nothing, nothing, nothing. Had to clean around the cave all the time, alllll the time."

Jared's chuckle came from somewhere very, very close to his left ear. He'd find it funny too, probably, if his brain wouldn't be too occupied with chocking, puking, _dad_ and snake meat.

"Jensen, you okay? You all right?"

He was seeing red; lines and dots of red were dancing before his eyes, the chamber's gray-black walls were spinning around and around and he gripped the mud, let it slide between his fingers and breathed in.

"Jensen?"

He was up from the ground in a flash, seeing Odie stand by _his_ quiver and _his_ bow and he all but jumped to the man, slid an arrow out of the quiver on his way and grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt.

"My dad?" his voice was a growl, the taste of puke still strong in his mouth and he knew his breath must've smelled awful, but he didn't care. He let spittle fly all over the Icy, when he hissed: "You knew my dad?"

"No hit me, no hit me, don't," Odie's eyes went to his right, "… my King," then back to him, "please."

"Jensen!"

Jensen ignored Odie's babble and Jared's sharp call of his name and shook the Icy harder, wanting, needing to get some answers from the man.

"Fuckin' put the words on the string and fuckin' tell me about my dad or I swear I'll ram this arrow into your fuckin' throat. Wouldn't kill ya, I know, but it will hurt like hell!" He yelled at the crying Icy, his voice hoarse and his throat raw and aching.

"Jensen, let him go!"

"Don't hit me, don't hit me, don't hit me, knew you daddy, knew him, please, no hit me, my King, my King, Jared!"

The Icy was covering his ears and mumbling with his eyes closed, twitching away from Jensen's words and the arrow's point that Jensen was pushing into the dip of the guy's neck.

"Jensen!"

Strong hands pulled him back and held him away from Odie with a solid pressure in the middle of his heaving chest.

He stood back from Odie, letting the Icy fall down to the ground and lean his right side to the stone Jensen had been sitting on.

"Don't hit, don't hit, don't hit, don't hit …"

"You stay here, don't move, you hear me?!"

Jensen nodded; he'd stay.

"Hey Odie, hey brother, hey. It's okay. Jensen, just … you sprung that out on the guy with no warning and Jensen needs a bit of warning, his fuse is really short, you get me?"

He let the arrow fall to the muddy ground … his fuse was short, he almost … he threatened … and the Icy didn't do anything to him. He was just taking whatever Jensen dished out and who of the Ice People did that? No one. Except Alineja, Jared and Odie.

"I get you, brother, I get you, I do, I do. Short fuse, very short. What happened, what? When?"

"I don't know Odie, I don't know. He's scared, you know?"

"I know, I see, I can see. He's terrified. He's a little child, he always was a little child. Hid behind your legs, just two green eyes poking 'round them. Always such a little child. Grew up big, though. Put on lots and lots and lots of muscles."

"Stop talking about me, like 'm not here." It came out sounding as if he was ten and pouting.

Jared turned around and growled: "Shut up!"

"Hey Odie, why don't we sit down and talk, hmm, come on, just sit down and we'll talk, right Jensen?"

"Right." He gritted through his teeth, watching as Jared helped Odie up on his feet. The Icy was old and his knees popped when he stood up and popped again when Jared helped him sit down on the animal pelt's that were decorating the stone chair.

"Okay Odie, you all right?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay, okay, okay. I'm okay."

"Okay, now Jensen's gonna sit down too and you'll put words on the string, won't you, Odie?"

"I will, string, I'll string them up. You need the string my King, Jared, to, to put your words on, yes? Yes?"

"Yes, Odie. I need the string."

"Jensen, sit."

He never took good to orders and snappy, harsh tone, but if he wanted answers, he'd need to sit, otherwise he was sure that Jared would take Odie away to … protect him. Odie was Jared's brother, older probably, although who knew how the Ice People's family order worked, and Jared would do anything to protect his brother. Jensen knew that now. Could see it.

"Fine." He grumbled and took Odie's seat while Jared took the one next to Odie.

"Okay now, Odie put my words on a string, okay?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I'll put them on a nice string, my King, Jared. I promise, I do, I swear."

"I know you will."

Odie smiled reminding Jensen of a dog with its tail wagging in happiness. He couldn't tell what made him a lost ball in high weeds, but the man was just that … not totally right in the head. But Jared seemed to trust his brother to … put words on a string?

Jensen sighed. An Icy and a nuts Icy. Hell.

"I'll start Odie, okay?"

"You start and I'll string."

"Okay. So, Jensen," and when Jared turned to look at him, his eyes were soft and if Jensen didn't know better, full of sadness, "your mom's name was Jamie, her real name, others called her Jelly."

"She, she, she was pregnant, with a boy, I knew it was a boy, I could feel it, a boy, yes, a boy."

"When I found her I placed my hand on her belly and it felt like a boy. Felt a bit weak and little, like a boy.

"Your daddy's name was Lemmy, Looky we all called him. Looky, Looky, Looky who's here," Odie giggled at that, as if it was really that funny, Jensen didn't think it was, "but he loved your mommy, loved her so much, loved her to the darkness and back, loved her, loved your mommy, Jensen. Looky and Jelly, Looky and Jelly. I heard them at night sometimes, whispering, always whispering and giggling. Your mommy giggled a lot. Made me giggle back, but silently, didn't want anyone to hear. No, no, no, shhhh, shhhh."

Jensen was starting to feel nauseated, the bits of the water snake he'd managed to keep down swimming dangerously in his belly.

"They were happy, kiddo, so happy. In love, rainbows and puppies. And they made you. Made a boy. Made you, with gasps and moans, I heard. I heard everything. Not that I wanted to, but … my ears, they … are sharp."

Jensen wanted to hurl, but he swallowed it all down: "Okay."

"Looky died, he died. Killed. Was killed. Killed by humans. Killed ummm five weeks before you were born. Five? Four? Five? Weeks. Some weeks. Jelly mourned. She cried. She cried silently, she, she, she cried into my shirt," Odie looked down at the dark blue button down he wore and rubbed a hand down the front, as if smoothing down the wrinkles, "made it all wet and snotty, but she cried. She lost, she, she loved. And she rubbed her belly, said my Jensen. My Jensen. Said it out loud, into my shirt, right into my shirt. She cried. Cried Jensen and cried Looky. But there was no more Looky," the Icy shook his head, "no more Looky."

Jensen nodded and tried to ignore the lump that had formed in his throat. He looked at Jared and he was looking at him, not at Odie, but at him, with softness in his eyes.

"Jensen?"

"'m fine."

He wasn't fine and he knew that Jared knew, but Odie didn't seem to care, he just continued with his story.

"Humans killed him, they killed him. They _knew_ how to kill him. They _knew_."

"Knew? I don't … I don't understand."

"Jensen, your dad, he was an Icy."

The words might as well have been a slap in the face, a bucket of cold water down his back, a shot to his heart and a spear through his brain.

"I … no! What?! No! No fuckin' way!"

"Jensen, listen, just listen to us. I didn't know, I didn't know. I suspected, but I didn't know. Not for sure."

"Suspected?"

"When you were born, Jensen …" Jared closed his eyes and shook his head, "your eyes were so green. They were so, so green."

"My … m-my e-eyes?"

"And," Jared bit his lip," how you go to the stars for comfort when you're lonely and scared and how you're strong, how you can punch me and not break your arm and how you survived Ashil's crystal touching your appendix," Jared took a deep breath, "I didn't really, uh, everything was happening so fast, Jamie was pushing and you just … you just slipped out and I didn't think about it, but years after, I … when she pushed and your hand came out, your finger … was a crystal. It was a moment, a second, a flash really, because when you … came, your finger started growing skin."

The chamber's walls were starting to narrow, started to come closer and closer to him and Odie and Jared were looking like misshapen mushrooms.

"What was in that soup?"

He stood up from the rock as if someone lit a fire under his ass and took a few steps backwards, raising up his hand in a 'get the hell away from me' gesture that he hoped beyond hope Jared would understand. But it really was a hope beyond hope, because Jared was walking towards him, disregarding the gesture and just plowing on.

"Did you poison the, the soup? This where you kill me?"

"Jensen, calm down."

"Don't … don't use the mojo, don't you dare. Just … don't … my dad was not an Icy, I wasn't … I don't have crystals in my finger," he looked down at his trembling fingers, still with some blood stuck behind his fingernails, "I don't … just back off."

"Jensen, listen…"

"Jensen, Jensen, kiddo, Looky was my brother, was Jared's brother. Looky, Looky, Looky who's here, was our brother. Noleih killed him, he killed our brother, killed your daddy."

"No, you, you said it was humans."

"Jensen, who do you think gave the humans information on how to kill an Icy?"

"No, no, no! No!"

He couldn't breathe, the walls were shattering, shaking, breaking all around him.

"Jensen…"

"Wait, wait, just stop. Just stop, stop."

He needed everything to just stop; the walls, his breathing, his heartbeat, this day, Jared walking towards him, pressing onto him with all that calmness. He didn't want to be calm. He was enraged. He wanted to feel being angry, he wanted … all of this to stop, allow him to take a breath, easy, easy does it and then move on.

Jared stopped walking: "Okay, 'm stopping. I stopped."

That was all Jensen needed. Just for everything to stop and allow him to think … think and breathe and get the walls to stop crumbling down around him.

"You said," he licked his lips, moistening them up "my mom, she … she bled … did I … did I," he lowered his voice, sucking in any tears that wanted to appear unbidden, "kill her?"

"What?"

"Did I … my finger, the crystal, did it …" he looked down at his fingers. They were fingers, skin, bone, freckles, a few scars, but no crystals.

"No, no, Jensen, no you didn't kill your mom."

"'s that true? Can you be sure of that?"

"Some crystals are sharp, pointed, serrated, sharp. Our fingers are pointed, are …"

"Stop talking, Odie!"

Jensen couldn't really tell if it was him who yelled that or if it was Jared, but Odie snapped his mouth shut so quickly that the snap could be heard in the echoing chamber.

"I need … I … I c-can't …"

The walls were crashing down all around him, he would be buried under a pile of rocks, he couldn't breathe …

"Jensen, can you focus?"

"Nhhh, no, I need …"

He was getting closer and closer to the exit, to the tunnel that would lead him outside, out of here, out of this madness. He wasn't even conscious of what he was doing, if he was walking or crawling or running. All of a sudden he was feeling like his chest might explode and the next he was inches from the exit, but so far away from the sun, the air, the lush forest outside this oppressive cave.

"Jensen, there's more."

"What? What more?"

He couldn't handle more. What more? His head hurt like his brain was four sizes too big to fit in his skull, his right side throbbed, his mouth was dry of all saliva, his stomach was rolling around as if the snake reattached all of its parts and was now swimming in his stomach acid. He was going to combust.

"Noleih he has to stop, stop, stop, stooooop. We, we, we need to make him stop. You need to make him stop. Make him stop, Jensen, kiddo, please, make our brother stop killing, stop killing us, killing humans. Make him stop being evil, so evil, so afraid. Like you, he's afraid, he's scared, scared of humans like you're scared of us. Make him stop. Gotta make him stop. Kiddo, please, stop."

"Okay, Odie, okay, calm down, brother. You made a beautiful string with words, it's okay. You did good, you did really good Odie."

"Jensen's sad, he's angry, he can't breathe, he's hurting. He's not all right. Jared, Jensen's not all right."

"Odie, I know, he's gonna be okay, trust me. I'll make it all okay."

"I trust you Jared. My King, I trust you. You're so much like your Father, so much like him, trusted him too. He'd been wise, my brother, very wise."

"He was Odie, he was. Uh, Odie, why don't you clean the bowls and get some pelts for sleep, huh? Jensen's gonna need some sleep, hmmm?"

"Oh yes, yes, sure, sure, of course, yes, right away."

Jensen watched the interaction between the two Icies but couldn't really do anything or say anything because his brain was overflowing with information, his synapses were overheating, his lungs and heart were working too fast, too much … too much.

"Jensen, hey buddy, hey, hey…"

"I can't …"

"It's okay."

"I don't …"

"Jensen …"

"I … I'm not …"

"Okay, you need some air? We can go outside, get some air."

"It's too much …"

"I know, I know, come on, gonna get some air. Odie, we're gonna go get some air, we'll be back!"

"Yes, yes, yes, Jared."

"Come on Jensen, let's go, come on."

He was being pushed towards the tunnel; one hand on his bicep and one on his back, pushed up the three wooden ladders and down another tunnel until finally he saw trees in the distance and how dusk had fallen on the land.

He felt numb, floating somewhere between what had been and what was and holy crap, what was, was horrible. Was stuff his nightmares were made of; Icies and half-breeds, and struggles for dominance, and hunger, starvation for family, the what if I killed my mom, who was my dad.

Who was Jensen? Who was he?

The things Jared and Odie had told him shifted his personality for a degree or three thousand, shifted it off kilter and … who was he? Who had he always been?

"Sit down, Jensen, sit, come on."

"'m not gonna flip my shit," he gasped for breath, "'m not gonna hurt Odie or you," another gasp, drawing in sharp breaths to fill up his starving lungs, "'m not gonna kill you or myself," the air was sharp, pure, just the sweet, sweet familiar odor of nature, "'m not gonna do anything."

"Jensen?"

"'m not who I was anymore. 'm not … human," he looked down at his hands, his shaking hands, scars and calluses and bitten fingernails, freckles and bruised knuckles, "'m not human, uncle Sammy. Never was."

"Jensen, buddy, you okay?"

He looked at Jared who was crouched before him; concern and fear in those slanted eyes and nodded. Of course he was okay, what a dumbass question. He was just fine.

"Yeah, 'm 'kay," he pulled his bottom lip between his lips and chewed on it, "'m fine, Uncle Sammy."

"Jensen?"

He felt Jared place his hand on his shoulder, the touch familiar and grounding, trying to bring him back from wherever he'd floated to. Jared gave him a shake that rattled his teeth and made him hiss when the bruise on his jaw made itself known. He looked directly into Jared's eyes, not shying away from the look, not shying away from being looked at. Or after.

"Hey, Jensen, can you just breathe for me, hmmm?"

"I can't …" he bit his lip, blood spilling out of the small cut his incisors made in the soft flesh, "'m scared."

The first sob wasn't a surprise, because he had been on the verge of tears ever since Odie told him his dad's name, his real name, but the second sob was a surprise, because he never let himself cry more than two tears.

"Shit…" he cursed while trying to suck tears back into where they came from and not cry. He didn't want to cry any more than a tear or two and there wouldn't be a dam big enough to stop the river.

"Jensen?"

"I killed my mom, Uncle Sammy and, and 'm not human. 'm not anyone. 'm in between."

Tears felt hot on his cold cheek, hot and wet down his neck and Jared's face was blurry, but the softness in his uncle's eyes was just that, softness, not pity or fear, just softness.

"You are Jensen, you hear me? Always have been, always will be, you hear me? Nothing's ever gonna change that."

"I killed my mom."

"You didn't. She was bleeding, it still happens, it had always happened. I've seen it, heard of it, trust me. It happens, it will always happen. You didn't kill her. If anyone, blame me. I should've done something more, I don't know, I should've stopped the bleeding …"

"But you didn't," he looked down at his shaking hands, that were lying on his thighs, "make her bleed."

"Neither did you."

"'m not all right."

"I know you're not."

"I'm so sorry…"

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Sammy."

"Kid, come on, don't … don't bail on me now, come on."

"I can't …"

He couldn't. He couldn't stop crying. He wanted to, he really, really did, but he couldn't. Everything he ever did, everything he had been … it was because he was a half breed. Half human, half Icy. All those humans he had killed, all those lives he had taken …

"Sammy …" he wailed, he fucking wailed, help him God, but he couldn't stop. The weight on his chest was mountain big and he couldn't stop.

"'m here and 'm not leaving you again."

He gripped Jared by the front of the shirt and hid his face into Jared's chest, just like all those times when he had been a kid; tired and cranky and sleepy and weepy.

All those times when his uncle allowed him to leave spit and snot and tears all over his shirt, all those times when he climbed into the man's lap and hid himself into the man's heartbeat.

He tried to cry silently, tried not to make too much noise, tried to stop crying, but couldn't.

There was no breeze, no noises, all quiet and still.

"'s gonna be okay, kiddo, 's gonna be okay."

He nodded – not really believing, but this was his uncle and his uncle never lied to him - sniffed in the tears – no more crying, for fuck's sake, no more crying - and patted Jared on the chest while raising up his head and looking directly into Jared's eyes: "Noleih. We need to end him. I need him dead."

"Jensen…"

"I know he's your brother, but I need him dead. I need him dead."

"I can't kill my brother."

"I know you can't, but I can. And I will, I swear I will."

"Jensen…"

"Don't. Please, please don't. I have to."

"Would killing him really make you feel better? Make it all better? It won't bring you back your parents."

"No it won't, but it will make me feel better. It'll make me … ache … less."

"Jensen, it doesn't work that way."

"You don't know that. You don't."

"I do. Believe me, I know."

"Well, you ain't me."

"No, I ain't, but I know pain. I know how it is."

Jensen shook his head: "I'll kill him."

"I know you will try, but you don't have to, 's all 'm saying."

"You won't stop me?"

"I don't know."

Jensen nodded, because he understood. No one just kills a brother, family was to be protected. Alineja and Jared had taught him that; always protect your family … until that lesson got blown in the wind when Jared left and Jensen left Alineja to be killed.

"I know you will."

He wiped the tears off his face and got up from the tree stump Jared had seated him on.

"Wanna go back inside?"

"I'm guessing I have no other choice."

"No, no you don't."

"Okay, but tomorrow morning, we're going to find Noah."

"Jensen…"

"No, no, we need to end this. Make you all go back to sleep and leave the planet to us."

Us? Who was us, anymore? Jensen wasn't an 'us' anymore, he was an abomination, not belonging to the humans nor the Icies. Not belonging on the earth or beneath the ice.

Jared nodded and started walking towards the cave's entrance, watching Jensen's tense back.

He smiled.

Jensen was ready. Now he just needed to be prepared.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 7**

Odie had prepared some animal skins right opposite the entrance into the chamber but the hall was so huge, Jensen hadn't seen them when he'd entered it again.

The flames were still licking the stone, dancing across walls and weird formations that seemed to grow from everywhere; the stalactites and stalagmites he knew, he vaguely remembered being taught about them, but there were other forms, other things growing from everywhere. On his right was a wall of tiny, long rocks looking like a frozen waterfall, cascading down from top to bottom. It drew his eyes, especially when the light hit it just right to send crystals into a sparkling frenzy.

"There, there, you sleep there, Jensen, kiddo. There, you always slept there. It's dry, you liked it be dry, no muck, no mud, no water. Just dry sand. Gotcha some bear skins, fur, soft fur. I washed it. Doesn't smell, no smell. You sleepy? You hungry? You puked, puked everything. Want some more soup, do you?"

Odie's words were a jumble of things but they weren't mean, the man might be a few marbles out of a full bag, but he wasn't mean and Jensen didn't think the guy could ever really be mean. Could ever … kill. But that didn't change the fact that Odie's voice came out of nowhere, startling him and making him choke on his spit.

His mind was still somewhere far, far away in the land of dad and mom, in the land of killkillkill, and the only thing stopping him from punching Odie in his face, was Jared's warm hand squeezing his nape.

"Uh, that's … no, that's fine Odie. I'm just gonna … go to sleep, yeah."

"Okay, okay, skins are over there, like I said. Sleep well, yes? Sleep tight. No nightmares, none, I forbid it, always have."

"Uh, yeah…" he smiled and awkwardly patted the old man on his bony shoulder; the dark blue shirt the Icy wore hung off of him as if the man was a coat hanger. Jensen walked towards the far wall where he could vaguely see something on the ground that kinda looked like something brown.

The cave's chamber was really, really ginormous and Jensen wondered how it came to be. It was way below the surface, hidden among a lot of twisting tunnels; some wide, some narrow, some going up, some down. Some were made of limestone, some still had coal clearly visible in the walls; there were some tunnels where the wall was embedded with small spots of white crystals that Jared had said were diamonds. Jensen knew that diamonds had been very sought after in the Before, but now … now they were just shiny rocks. One couldn't fill one's belly with those, couldn't pay for anything with it … just rocks.

He sat down on the bear skin and stroked his hand across the fur; it was soft and warm.

He sighed and lay down, nestling his head onto a pillow that he just knew had dried leaves stuffed inside. He closed his eyes just as Jared stopped helping Odie sit down at the table and looked up. He didn't want to talk to or see him. He was disgusted with himself for crying. Crying, fuck's sake.

He blinked, one, two, three and looked up at the ceiling that was littered with stalactites.

There was a stalagmite near his foot, one short move and he'd hit the wet rock with his big toe but that wasn't what interested him. No, it were the icicle-like rocks that hung from the cavern's ceiling.

They looked majestic, thick at the bottom and narrowing down to sharp, serrated tips. If the one directly above him should break and fall, it would impale him directly through his chest.

He shuddered at the thought and then cursed beneath his breath because hadn't he been impaled? By Asshole no. two. Impaled directly through his stomach, the slime-ball's finger touching his appendix.

He gagged. Fuck.

The stalactites were shining yellow/orange in the firelight, some even sparkling with tiny crystals, violet or white, some even looked as yellow as Odie's teeth.

It was beautiful, but a beauty most dangerous; one never could know when it'd break, fall down and kill.

He turned to his side, not wanting to stare at his maybe death anymore and closed his eyes. No nightmares.

Sure, whatever Odie.

He hugged his chest, shivering a bit in the coolness of the chamber and sniffled, still sucking in snot that had ran freely when he'd been crying. The air smelled wet, dewy and it tickled his sinuses but not enough for him to sneeze.

No nightmares, his ass. A few seconds after he closed his eyes, images of Alineja assaulted his mind; Noah grinning while holding Alineja's spine, the crystal wiggling as if made of thin rubber. Images of Noah gripping the moving crystal high up to the sky, the crystal sparkling blue and green, radiating bright light, as bright as the sun sometimes.

He opened his eyes and looked at the wall; there were creases and dips, small rocks sticking out, some white little crystals that looked like dew on blades of grass. A spider-like thing on thin, long white legs scurried across a shallow dip and disappeared into a hole in the wall.

Insects. Bugs. Beetles. Spiders and cockroaches. Mosquitoes and mice and rats. Those hadn't changed one bit, as he had been told. Those were the things that could withstand anything, even the Earth cracking more.

He sighed; they weren't his favorite things. Sure mice sometimes tasted delicious, but only if they'd been field mice, not the ones found in cities. But he'd never eat bugs. Snakes, apparently he liked.

But then again, for food, he'd do anything. Eat anything as long as it filled his belly and made him see straight again.

He pressed his elbows into his stomach. He was hungry, maybe he should've eaten some more of that soup, snake meat or not.

He felt Jared come close before he spoke or made any noise whatsoever. His uncle had a presence about him that could be _heard_ , even if there was no real sound anywhere.

"You need to sleep, Odie'll keep the nightmares away."

"Well whatever that means, he's not doing a very good job with it."

Jared chuckled: "When you were a kid and we stayed here, he always told you that he forbids you to have nightmares and you didn't have them. I think you were so scared of him, you didn't dream at all."

"Well it ain't working now."

"You have to fall asleep, Jensen. You need sleep. What you see when you close your eyes shouldn't count. It doesn't count."

"Everything counts."

"Trust me."

"Just go 'way."

"Noup, not gonna happen."

"Then just go somewhere else."

"Yeah … no, ain't gonna happen either."

Jensen turned around and watched as Jared made himself comfortable on another bear skin, a foot or two away from him. He turned back around.

"I snore."

"You snore and talk in your sleep. I'm okay with that. Now, go to sleep or I'll make Odie make you go to sleep."

Jensen said nothing. Why go into a fight with a man who would just talk and talk and talk until he'd make Jensen wanna punch his lights out.

Waste of time when he could spend that time faking sleep. Pretending.

He was good at that, wasn't he? Pretending to be something he wasn't. Pretending to be human, pretending to be strong. Pretending to be an ass, just so that everyone would leave him alone. He was good at that; faking who he was, well, he had made that into an art form.

He closed his eyes, seeking the stars, needing them to invade his mind, see them behind his closed eyelids. They always chased away things he didn't want to see. They always made everything better and if they were a result of him being half Icy, well, fuck it. The stars never hurt him.

The stars had always been there, whenever he had needed them. He squeezed his eyes closer together and yeah, stars and colors exploded, not allowing the memories of Alineja's death to come even close.

Jensen blinked his eyes open, slowly, dragging his eyelashes on his cheeks before finally gathering enough strength to open them fully and really look.

The wall was there, a black beetle running into the same hole the spider disappeared into before and Jensen sighed. The beetle was probably going into its death and the little fella didn't even know it.

It seemed like these days no one really knew when and where death would come.

He rolled around and saw Odie and Jared sitting at the rock table, eating something that looked like bread but could be anything. He was too far away to tell.

He groaned while trying to get up, because if this was some sort of a midnight snack, he wanted to be a part of it. His stomach was growling and gurgling and he needed to make it a peace offer otherwise he was afraid the thing would start eating him.

"Jensen, Jensen, kiddo, good morning, beautiful morning. Lake's still frozen, but sparkling, beautiful morning. Eat, come, come, come, made some jam. Blueberry jam, blueberries grow everywhere, just everywhere, blueberries, yes, yes."

"Morning?" he mumbled when he took a seat and saw thin slices of bread and some dark stuff in a jar. Blueberry jam, well, color him hungry enough to eat the sludge in the jar.

"It's almost ten."

"Ten?"

Ten? That was … he'd slept for … hours. He never slept for hours, always an hour here, half an hour there, but never hours and never throughout the night.

"Come on, eat some and then … uh, then we need to talk."

"'m done talking," he put some jam on the bread and spread it around with a stick, "we're gonna go find Noah, and 'm gonna end him. There's nothing to talk about."

"Yeah? So, how're you gonna kill him? How're you gonna find him?"

The jam tasted sweet and delicious and he didn't care what crazy shit Odie had to mix with the blueberries to make the jam so jam like, because he was eating all of this. Odie could always make more.

He shrugged: "Dunno, but I'll do it. I'll go to the first city and scream his name. As for killing him, well, I'll just rip out his spine, right?"

"Kill? Kill? Jared, why kill? Why kill? No! No! No killing, you can't kill my brother, you can't kill Noleih, you can't, no! No more killing, just, just, just stop him, Jensen, not kill. No, please don't. Please, please, don't kill Noleih. Please, please, please."

"Odie, Odie, listen to me. Jensen's not gonna kill Noleih," Jared send Jensen a look that spelled _shut up, just shut up_ , "he's not gonna kill our brother. It's okay, it's okay, Odie. Calm down, just calm down. No one is gonna kill Noleih. Okay, okay?"

"Okay, okay, okay, you promise? Jensen, you promise? He's my brother, he's our brother, he's just … misguided. He doesn't know, he doesn't see, he doesn't know, please don't kill him."

"Uhh…" he was lost for words, Odie's eyes were spilling tears and he felt like such a douche for making an old, broken, crazy man cry, "'m not gonna kill him. I'll just … have a little chat with him, right Jared? We'll just talk."

"Yeah, yeah, Odie, we'll just talk. We won't kill Noleih, hey, I won't let Jensen kill Noleih, I promise. Okay? Okay? Calm down, I promise, no one is killing Noleih."

"Okay, okay, no one kills Noleih. He's our brother, he needs help, just help, help, lots of it, maybe, maybe when he'll go back to sleep, he'll be okay. He'll be okay."

"Yeah Odie, he'll be okay. He just needs some sleep. Everyone needs some sleep."

"Yeah, it's okay Odie. We'll just talk to Noleih and make him go back to sleep."

"But not dead sleep, but our sleep. Sleep deep, deep down under the ice. Under the water. Not up there in the darkness. But down there beneath the ice. Right? Right? Promise!"

"Uh, yeah Odie, under the ice."

Jensen looked at Jared shushing the man and rubbing his hand up and down Odie's arm, calming him down before he'd have a stroke or something. The guy might be a bit crazy, but he wasn't a bad man. He wasn't someone Jensen wanted dead. Odie was … like a kid at times, yet old beyond time at others; smart and naïve. Old and young and it puzzled Jensen, how the Icy became like that. What had happened? Because all of the Icies he had ever met had been young, well they looked young, and vital. Not old and all but becoming dust. Whatever had happened to Odie must've been really something.

"You okay now, Odie?"

"'m okay, 'm okay, my King. 'm okay."

"Good, all right," Jared looked at him, "it doesn't work that way, Jensen."

"No, no, no doesn't work that way, Jensen. Listen to Jared, listen to him, it doesn't work that way. You need to learn, you need to know, you need to be taught. No, no, no your plan is a no. No killing and no screaming for Noleih to appear. It's a no, he wouldn't hear you, he wouldn't come. No."

Jensen shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Then tell me what to do and I'll do it. Just don't try to stop me, because I won't stop."

"I know you won't stop, but we have to do this the smart way."

"Okay, fine. Fine."

"He needs to be stopped. All of this has to stop."

"Needs to be stopped, stopped, yes, yes, stopped. But not killed, please don't kill my brother, our brother. Please, no more killing, please."

"Odie, it's okay. No killing Noleih, I promise."

"Good, good, good, yes."

Jensen had to stop this panic attack Odie seemed to be having so he licked his lips: "You know, there's just one thing I don't get."

"Yes, yes, yes, do say, say it. Ask it, I know you wanna, I know you do, what is it?"

"So you dragged me all the way here, told me all about me, or well, I hope that's all about me, but I don't understand why me?"

Jared sighed and just by that sigh alone, Jensen knew he wouldn't like this. Wouldn't like whatever would come out of Jared's mouth one little bit.

"Because you're … you're half an Icy. You're half us and half a human. You can call Noleih to come and you can," Jared paused, "stop him."

He was right, he didn't like that at all. Not one bit. He hummed around a mouthful of sweet, sweet blueberry jam.

"So you need my, what? My human side? My Icy side? What?"

"Both, like I said. We need you to call Noleih to show up. I can't call him, he'll know it's a trap, he ain't stupid. But if he hears you, your … your signal, then he'll come get you and then … and then."

Jensen had a weird, weird, very weird suspicion that Jared meant kill Noleih, but was too scared to say it out loud.

"But he knows I'm with you."

"It's a chance we'll have to take. But he's seen you, read you and I kinda think that he thinks you ran away from me first chance you got."

"Yeah, well … I would've."

"But you didn't. So let's just hope that Noleih thinks that you did."

"Okay, and then, uh what? How do I, you know, talk to him?"

He meant to say kill him, but Odie was already on the brink of tears and Jensen didn't want them to fall again.

"We were waiting for you to grow up, so that we'd be able to teach you how to use what you have inside of you to, uh, talk to Noleih. But then things happened and the anger in you, Jensen, all that anger … you can't … you have to let some of it go. Otherwise," Jared sighed, "you can't allow anger to fuel you, can't allow it to dim your mind. You can't allow it to be in control."

"It's not in control."

"Jensen, I've seen you kill."

"But if I hadn't, I'd be dead by now."

"You don't know that. You always killed before anyone had even gotten a word or two out. What if all they wanted was help? Maybe a sip of water? A slice of bread?"

"I'd give them one sip, one slice and they would've wanted my whole arm! That's how this world works, Jared. In case you haven't noticed, that's how this planet spins. One sip of water can become three bottles of water that someone stole from you, just because they saw you have it. And it doesn't stop there. It stops when your neck is slit opened, because that justifies the water thievery. Man down, he ain't gonna be needing that water! See, Jared, that's how this world works now!"

"But not always, Jensen. There are still some good people out there."

Jared's voice was soft and full of understanding, such a contrast to his shouting and angry voice. And he was angry, why couldn't Jared just get it through his thick – skull, crystals, bones – that the world worked differently now. It worked with people saving their own skin, lying and deceiving, pretending to be something and then plunge a knife straight through someone's back. It was all about survival, now. There were no kind people anymore.

"No, no they aren't. Never were."

"Jensen …"

"Just shut the fuck up and tell me how to ki-, uh, talk to Noah."

"Not until you learn how to reign in that anger. We never wanted you to grow up like this; scared, sad and so full of rage. It's gonna be the death of you."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you hadn't left…"

Jared sighed and dropped his slice of bread, the jam side smacking onto the plate. What a waste of good jam.

"My King, you must eat, must, you must. Eat more, don't mind Jensen, he's scared. He's scared, he'll be okay. You said he'll be okay. Eat, please, you must eat Jared."

"I will Odie, it's okay. I'll eat."

"Yeah, you eat and then you're gonna tell me how the hell to k-, talk to Noah."

"Noleih is a bad, bad, bad man, bad brother. He hurt Jared, hurt him bad, left him to die. Suffering. Left him to the snow and the cold and the beetles and the worms. Left him in pain. Hurt him bad, brother doesn't do that to a brother. He doesn't. It's wrong, wrong, wrong. Left him to die."

"What? What's he talking about?"

"Nothing," Jared cleared his throat, "finish up and then I'll show you how to talk to Noleih."

"No, no, wait, what's Odie talking about? Odie, what are you talking about?"

"You didn't know? You didn't? Jared, he didn't know. Why didn't he know? Jensen why don't you know?"

"It's okay Odie, I didn't tell Jensen, he doesn't need to know."

"I don't need to know? What? You shut up," he pointed to Jared, "you," he pointed to Odie, "start talking."

"Noleih killed Alineja, killed her, right? Then he caught Jared, caught him like an animal. Where was that, my King? Alaska? Was it further up north? Where was that?"

"Ellesmere Island."

"Right, right, yes, yes, there. Noleih caught Jared like an animal, brought him to the edge of death, the very edge," Odie's voice started to sound hoarse and breathy, as if it physically hurt him to talk about this, "left him there in the cold, in the snow, ripped apart and crystals everywhere. They were everywhere, Jensen, scattered around like glass, like glass, broken glass. I found him, picked up all the crystals, every last one of them, every tiny, tiny piece of crystal and took Jared to where we slept. To where some of our brothers and sisters still are, guarding. They are guarding and waiting. For us. For all of us, to stop this, Noleih and others."

"Odie, what about Jared?"

"Jared, he was all but dead. Dying. He was dying, I couldn't … none of us could watch him die. We all watched our Elder die, so many, many, many years ago, our Elder, we all saw him die, but we couldn't see Jared like that. We couldn't. We couldn't," he turned to Jared, "we couldn't watch you die. Not like your Father did. So we cried. We had to," Odie turned back to Jensen, "we cried and glued the crystals back together. Made Jared whole again. Made him alive again. Made him strong and better. Made him even better than our Elder had been. Better than his Father had been."

"Better?"

"Wiser, knowledge the size of the ocean, gave him our memories, our feelings, our emotions, our fear and our strength. Our, our, our experience, gave him all that we had. Gave him all we had, everything. Cried it onto him and put all those tiny, tiny crystals back to him. Made him. Rebuild him. Better. Healed him."

"You did Odie. You all did a good job, 'm proud of everyone."

Jensen looked at Jared; his skin was tanned, hands veiny and strong, muscled, broad shoulders and long legs, long fingers. A mole on his neck, a mole on his left cheek, dimples, blue-green eyes, brown hair that was always a bit wet from sweat, thin lips, laugh lines, frown lines, pointed nose. Nothing on him screamed 'made of crystals'.

Nothing on Jared screamed 'I can be broken like glass, crystals flying everywhere'. Nothing.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how it must've looked; crystals scattered all around the snow. Like glass. He couldn't image that.

Jensen cleared his throat: "Odie, when did … when did this happen?"

"Hmmm, hmmm, days, days, days, years, months, days are all the same, kiddo, probably, maybe, maybe, perhaps hmmm, two days after I felt Alineja go, g-go silent. Maybe two days. Could've been less. But I remember Jared go almost silent. Scared me. Scared me a lot. Scared me so bad, I broke a leg when trying to get up from the bed. Scared me more than seeing our Elder die."

"Odie, you did good. You found me. You fixed me. I'm all right now."

"But you weren't then. You weren't, Jared, you weren't. You were everywhere. On the snow, your crystals, everywhere. All around you."

"But I'm okay now."

"You are, you are, but you can't do that again. You can't go all but silent again, you can't. You can't leave us. You can't do that. You mustn't."

"I won't."

"You don't know that. You don't, you don't. Not for sure, and you have to be sure. Have to be sure. You can't abandon us. Can't abandon Jensen, can't abandon us. You can't."

"I'll try my best then."

"You try better than best. You have to try better than better than best. You have to. You have to go to sleep with us again. We have to leave this place, have to go back. Have to leave humans to humans. We have to."

"We will. We have Jensen now and we will."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"What?"

Jensen could see both Odie's and Jared's head snap up to look directly at him with eyes wide open and probably swallowing their tongues. He was pissed, he was beyond pissed right now.

"'s that why you didn't come back? 's that why? Because you were," he whispered, "dead?"

The bread and the jam were starting to wanna reappear and he swallowed it all down again.

"Would it matter if I'd told you?"

"Uh, yeah it would matter, you asshole. You were dying, dead or whatever, I think that kinda puts things in a different perspective, don't you think?"

"It doesn't matter. I left you and Alineja alone before Noleih found me. It doesn't matter."

"But you'd come back if you wouldn't have been, ya know, on your death bed?"

Jared nodded, because yes, he would've come back sooner. But he'd stayed on the Arctic, to plan and prepare and come up with a plan. He had been lost to Jensen anyway by the time he was well enough to get up from his dead bed.

"You should've told me."

"Why? What would that change?"

"Well, then maybe I'd hate you less."

"But you'd still hate me."

"Yeah, but less. Because it wasn't your fault. It was Noah's."

"Then 'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

There was no more jam in the jar. No more bread on the table, except for Jared's half eaten piece.

"You gonna eat that?"

"No."

Jensen was about to reach and grab the piece of bread when Odie slapped his hand and shook his head.

"For Jared. He must eat. He must, just must."

Jensen glared at Odie, and then looked at Jared. Maybe the guy could get some comfort, even if it was in the form of blueberry jam.

"Okay, 'm sorry. Eat Jared, then you need to show me how to call Noah."

The jam tasted like dead, raw squid in Jared's mouth, but he ate it, otherwise he'd get grief from two pigheaded … family.

"Okay," Jensen clapped his hands together getting rid of the bread crumbs, "so we're leaving now."

He was about to get up from the small round stone table littered with bread crumbs and puddles of condensation from the jam jar when his uncle's soft: "It's Friday, Jensen, we're not going anywhere." stopped him from moving a muscle.

Fuck, no.

It always rained on Fridays. Always. No matter what season it was, winter, summer, fall or spring, no matter if the day before it had been sunny and hot like hell or a snow storm, it _always_ rained on Fridays. No one could explain why, Jensen thought that no one really even cared why, it was just a thing that was. Just like why and how the smoke and ash of the volcanos erupting just … disappeared from the sky after a few months. It was just a thing that was, existed and people had to adapt to and not think about it too much, otherwise they'd go crazy – well crazier. Sometimes some things just were.

"The fuck we aren't, it's just a bit of rain."

Well, okay, that was a bit of an understatement, because the Friday rains were actually downpours of biblical sizes, but the hell Jensen wouldn't be leaving. They had to leave, he had to leave. If this was his chance, their chance to actually get shit done, to get Noah to stop his reign of terror and other things that Jensen didn't even wanna think about and get all the Icies go back to the Arctic and go back to sleep … and maybe right the Earth by doing that, then a bit of a rainy weather wouldn't be the thing that would stop him.

"Fine," he crossed his arms at his chest, "we'll do it here, then."

"No, we're not."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I said so."

Jensen narrowed his eyes: "You planned this all along, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You knew Friday'd come and we'd be stuck like this, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Jared got up from the stone he'd been sitting on and stepped closer to Jensen, "yeah I did and you know what? I'm not sorry. You," he poked Jensen's chest with his pointer finger, "need to learn a few more things before we go talk to my brother."

"I can't believe you. I … no, no, we're calling Noah and we're ending this. I'm ending this, one way or another."

Jensen growled which in return made Jared sneer: "No, we're not."

"Fuckin' tell me how to call Noah, you son of an Icy bitch!"

Jensen shouted and didn't even flinch when Jared grabbed him by the lapels of his over shirt, spun him around and brought him to the wall in ten big steps, all but dragging Jensen backwards.

His back hit the wall; poking stones and valleys with sharp serrated edges digging into his spine, taking his breath away. His eyes widened, because Jared was a warm, breathing pressure all along his body, from the tip of his toes up to his collarbone, where Jared was pressing his forearm to.

"Don't call me that. Don't you _ever_ call me that again."

He slammed Jensen to the wall again, ignoring a slight hiss of pain, knowing full well that the wall wasn't smooth and that rocks were digging into Jensen's spine. No one called him that. His mother … wasn't …

… he looked down at their feet and shook his head. He knew Jensen was pissed, knew his nephew just wanted to rile him up, make him fight, knew Jensen was itching for his knife and bow, itching to draw blood but it wouldn't be him who would give that to the kid. He didn't want to fight, he never wanted to fight, especially not with Jensen.

He looked back up and pressed Jensen harder into the wall, making Jensen gasp.

He whispered inches from the little punk's face: "We're not putting Odie in danger, you hear me?"

Jensen was silent, just big wide open eyes, so green, so green, like an Icy's eyes.

"Do you hear me?" he repeated in a growl, pushing his forearm deeper onto Jensen's collarbone.

"Yeah," Jensen gasped, "yeah I hear you."

Jensen was scared, Jared could see that, deeply hidden memories kicking in, reminding Jensen that an angry uncle was like a flood, taking everything down with it.

"Okay, now, here's the plan," he released some of the pressure he was putting on his nephew, "we're gonna use today to make you learn how to control your anger because without that, our meeting with Noleih'll go down really, really badly."

"Why?"

Jensen's breath smelled of blueberry jam and a few days of unwashed teeth, but Jared was used to it. He'd smelled worse in his time.

"Because if we don't, Noleih will sense your anger, your fear and twist it all around, twist it so that you'll start following him. He's good at that, just look at what he convinced some of my siblings. Twisting fear and rage," he shook his head, remembering his sisters and brothers succumb to Noleih's words and thoughts, "and Jensen, you're filled to the brim with that."

Jensen was about to shake his head 'no' but Jared gripped his jaw, stopping him and pushing his lips into a pout.

"Don't … just don't deny it, don't do that. It's okay. It is. We'll fix that. Odie will fix that."

"Odie?" Jensen mumbled through squished lips.

"Yeah, Odie's a great teacher."

"Odie?"

Jared chuckled and released his jaw and retreated his forearm: "Yeah Odie."

Jensen couldn't really see any way out of this one. He was trapped; with Jared's body and with his words. He couldn't really escape this one, because he needed to find out how to call Noleih and he knew that neither Jared nor Odie would give him that information just like that.

He sighed: "Fine."

"Fine." Jared snapped back with a little quirk of his lips and stepped away from Jensen, giving them both some breathing room.

Jensen unglued himself from the wall and shook his hands, rotating his shoulder, trying to unkink his muscles.

"You okay?"

"Stop askin' me that, 'm fine."

"Your shoulder?"

"'s nothing."

"'m sorry if I pushed you too hard, I didn't …"

"I said 'm fine. Not your fault."

Jared nodded and walked back to Odie who was standing by the table, eyes wide open and hands nervously rubbing his arms.

"Odie, it's fine."

"Jensen will learn, right? He has to learn, Noleih can sense, he'll sense and he'll turn it all around, he'll turn Jensen all around. Jensen has to learn, he has to, I'll help him, I will, I promise, I'll do a good job at it, I will, I swear, but he has to learn. He will learn, right? He'll do it? Right, Jared? Jensen will do it?"

"Odie, yeah, Jensen will do it and once he does, we'll leave."

"All right, all right, yes, okay, we'll make Jensen see, right? You and me, me and you, we'll make Jensen see. We will, yes?"

"We will, Odie. We will."

Jensen was listening to the conversation and wanting to or not, he had to give Jared credit. The man was a saint of patience, dealing with Odie, but then again, Odie was his brother, was family where family was scarce and Jared never could know who was with him and who was against him.

He shook his head and rotated his shoulder again, pressing his hand down to his right side, feeling nothing. Finally, shit was healing.

Took it long enough, but the ache in his side wasn't going away as quickly as he wanted. It still throbbed at times, especially if he moved too fast or turned at the wrong angle. But it was a throb he could deal with, he really could.

He looked up at the stalactites and sighed; he wanted to go away. Wanted to pick up his knife and his bow and go away. Go far, far away from here, go live his life of hiding and surviving and just … maybe find some medicine folk to help him get rid of all he had found out in the past few days, just erase all memories he'd recently gathered. He knew the medicine folk could do that, they had stuff that would probably taste foul going down but would make him feel pretty amazing afterwards. Yeah, he wanted that. To just disappear from everyone's radar and be left alone.

A drip of water; a clear, big drop that flew from a near stalactite and crashed onto the tip of a stalagmite made him blink. And then another one came and another one and they all dispersed into tiny, tiny droplets flying through the air and landing onto the muddy ground. Drop after drop after drop.

Life and death and life.

He didn't wanna be alone.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

He stopped chewing on his thumbnail – stupid habit that neither Alineja nor Jared had ever managed to break him out of - sighed, stepped across the muddy puddle and walked towards the two Icies; Odie was wiping the stone with some wet cloth and Jared was just sitting there, watching his brother.

He cleared his throat when he stopped by the table and placed his hands on the cold stone, leaning down, because the fuckin' weight of everything … it was making his head hurt.

"What do I have to learn? What … what do I have to do?"

His voice was raspy, filled with fear and determination, because he was going to do this. He was going to kill Noleih if it was the last thing he ever did. His eyes met his uncle's and when Jared said: "All you have to do is trust us." his head went up and down without him even thinking about it.

Odie dropped the cloth and looked at Jensen: "Trust us, trust us. Me and, and, and Jared. Trust us, we'll never hurt you. Never could. You hurt us all the time, but we'll never hurt you. Could never hurt you. Trust us, just trust us. We'll teach you, we'll make you learn and, and, and we won't hurt you."

"'m sorry for hurting you Odie, I really am."

"You think 'm crazy, think 'm craaaaazy, but 'm not. I am not."

"Odie, hey brother don't…"

Odie ignored Jared's warning.

"I'm not crazy, the things I've seen and, and, and felt … things I know and see and hear and feel and need and have loved and have lost and want them back, I can't have anything back. I just have Jared, I have him and he's mine, my King, our, he's our Jared and, and, and you keep fighting him and keep fighting yourself and you're losing Jensen. You can't fight everything, can't fight it, can't lose it. Once you lose it, you can't get it back. I can't get anything, any- any- anyone back. Never again. And you hurt Jared, you hurt him with, with your … you talk dirty, just dirty, dirty words, and you think them too. Such foul language, Alineja would smack you, smack you hard, but she can't. I lost her, she's not here anymore. She's gone. Jared was almost gone too. Everyone goes away, Jensen. Have them while you have them, don't, don't, don't fight, Jensen, kiddo."

"Odie, hey, hey, Odie, why don't you take a seat, huh?"

Jensen watched how Jared helped Odie sit down on the stone by the table and how the old Icy placed his head into his trembling hands.

"Odie…"

Jared stroked Odie's narrow back and Jensen hung his head when he heard Odie start to cry.

Fuck. Fuck. He never meant …

He walked to Odie and kneeled down, placing his hand on Odie's shaking back, his hand touching Jared's because Odie was just so thin … the man was like a dried up twig, he could feel all the bones in the man's back, or at least he hoped they were bones.

"Odie, 'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant … I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry. I'll learn, I swear. I'm sorry."

He looked at Jared then and got a tight lipped nod at his words. He knew Jared didn't believe him, not a single word he said, but he did mean them. He was sorry, he was so sorry, he was a selfish bastard who … he just hurt so badly. All these secrets all the betrayal, how does one cope with that? How?

"'m sorry, Odie. 'm so sorry."

The man wept, shaking beneath their hands and Jensen swallowed down the big lump that formed in his throat.

He closed his eyes and didn't open them, not even when he felt Jared's hand on the back of his.

"Odie, you gonna be okay?"

"'m okay, I am, I am, I'm okay."

"Come on drink some water. It's rain water, it's okay."

Odie's hand was shaking so bad when he reached for the glass Jared held out to him that half of the water sloshed out before it got to Odie's lips.

"You really okay, Odie?"

Odie's eyes were a bit red and puffy from crying and Jensen knew exactly how that felt. He hated the feeling of bloated eyes and red cheeks and snot all over the place, but crying was an ugly affair, even if it felt good afterwards. Well good, after all the embarrassment went away.

"I am, Jensen, I am okay. I am. I'm sorry, I shouldn't've said all that, I'm sorry. I am."

"No, you were right. Everything you said, you were right."

"You lost too, you did, lost so much Jensen. Lost it almost all."

"Naw, I didn't. Not really, besides all that I've lost I got back, didn't I?"

He patted Odie on his back and got up from the muddy ground, grimacing at the feel of mud soaking through his jeans. He could even feel the sludge on his skin through the rip on his left knee.

"Well okay then, you drink that and then teach me what I need to know. You up for that?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm okay. I'm better now. I am. I'll teach you, Jared will teach you. You'll learn. We'll make you learn."

"Okay then."

"You sure, brother? You can lie down for a bit, take a nap, maybe? You don't have to do this right now."

"'m okay, Jared. I am, I promise. It's okay. The water helped, tasted puffy. It's good, I'm good, I am. I promise. Jensen has to learn. We need to make him do it."

"All right, I'm trusting you here, Odie."

Odie nodded and placed the empty glass on the stone table.

A torch on the wall, pinned there by a stone with a hole in it, was casting an orange light over this corner of the cave's chamber. The table where they'd spend a lot of time was on Jensen's left and he was making small glances towards it from time to time, wishing to be back there, eating sweet blueberry jam on thin slices of bread and having his tongue and lips go all blue.

But he had to do this, if this was his only chance to get to Noleih and rip the spine out of that spineless creature. He bit his lip; he shouldn't think like that, it wasn't funny.

"You okay?"

Jared was looking at him from underneath his bangs and if Jensen had a pair of scissors he'd make good use of them.

"Why do you have bangs?"

"What?"

"The bangs, the ya know, the long hair?"

"Umm, 'cause … I can hide … my crystals, see?" Jared pushed the sweaty hair to the side and showed Jensen his forehead, and Jensen couldn't really say that he saw what Jared mean.

"I don't know what you mean."

"My forehead, my brows, see the bones?"

Jensen leaned forward a bit; they were sitting in front of each other, cross-legged, their knees touching, and then he saw it. Jared's bones by his brows were sticking out a bit and: "Those are your," he ran his thumb over one brow, he couldn't stop himself, but it didn't feel anything other than skin over bone, "crystals?"

"Yeah, well one cluster of crystals."

"How?"

"Uh," Jared smiled, "we're made of crystals. What you see, all this, me Odie and others, it's just skin over crystals."

"So what my bones are, that's what your crystals are?"

"Kind of, yeah. Our skeleton is crystals, we just ... we just kinda grew skin over it."

"But … how come you look the way you do?"

"I don't know, I guess this is how I look like when I'm in my true form. And then put muscles over the crystals and add skin and this is how I look like."

"So," he looked down at his fingers, "can you tell which finger is … I mean, where I'm made of crystals?"

"I can't tell, I can't see beyond the skin and the muscles, we'd have to … have to cut into your fingers, see where we'd hit real bone and where we'd hit a crystal."

Jensen nodded and placed his hands on his thighs, it figured that it wouldn't be that easy to see.

"I don't feel any different. I mean I don't feel like there are crystals in me."

"They aren't there to hurt you, it's not like they'd rub your skin all the time, they're just there. Just like bones."

"Are we ready? You ready, ready, you're ready, right Jensen? Jared's ready, you ready? Can I, can we, can we?"

Jensen flinched and turned around, wrapping his hand around Odie's neck and squeezing his fingers, making Odie's eyes bulge out.

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry, Odie, 'm so sorry, you just sneaked up on me, just I'm so sorry." He let go of Odie's throat as if his hand got burned and in a way it had, because Jesus fuck.

"Odie, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Odie, 'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Jensen, Jensen, Jensen it's okay. My mistake, all mine, not your fault. I shouldn't've just sneaked up like that, my mistake, mine. It's all right."

"'m so sorry."

"All okay, all alright, all okay. I promise. Can't kill me by choking me, can't do that eeehheehe, ehehehe."

"Uh, I know. I know, still … I just, 'm sorry."

"All okay. I promise, Jensen, kiddo, now turn around, turn, just turn around."

Jensen stared at Odie. He didn't want to turn around, he didn't want to have the man at his back, he … he didn't trust the Icy enough to have him at his back, where the man would have a good opportunity to break his neck, or stab him or …

"Jensen, hey, come on, turn around, look at me. We won't hurt you. I promise you."

"Jensen, turn around, come on, come on, I won't hurt you. Jared won't hurt you. We won't hurt you. Turn around."

"Jensen, come on, look at me."

He turned his head towards his uncle and wanted to run away; he never liked to have anyone or anything at his back but walls and trees and exits.

"Jensen, look at me, come on, I know, okay. I know exactly what you're thinking, but it's okay. Look at me, Odie won't hurt you. You're family. Family, understand?"

"You're scared, Jensen? Of me? No, no, no, no, don't be scared of me, not of me, I'd never hurt you, never, ever, never. Never. You're family, like Jared says, family. I'd never hurt you. Never, don't think … Jensen, please, I'd never…"

"Odie, Odie stop. I, uh, I know you wouldn't, it's just … I don't like having people at my back. It feels … strange."

"But, but, but it's just me. Just me. It's me."

"I know it's just you, I know, but it still feels … odd."

"But, but, but I changed your diapers, I changed your nappies and, and, and you peed on me once. You did and Alineja laughed until she cried, she cried and I was wet and I'd never hurt you. I'd never … ever, never. I'd die."

"Uh, wow, well," he rubbed the back of his neck, because awkward, "… okay, that's … uh, umm…"

Jared started laughing and he glared at his uncle, not really finding any of this funny.

"I remember that, oh man, Jensen you scared Odie so hard that day. He thought that he broke you, he kept saying that you were leaking and how does he stop you from leaking."

"Well, aaaawkward."

"No, no, you were a baby. Babies do that, 's what we told Odie."

"Thought I broke you, you kept on leaking like a, a, a uh geyser and, and, and made me all wet, my whole shirt, just wet. It wasn't funny, wasn't. Not at all."

"Awww Odie, it was a little funny."

"Was not, not, not. Wasn't. At all. And you, you, you Jared were no help at all, none, just none. Kept on laughing at me too, Jared, bad you. I broke the boy and you and Alineja kept on laughing at me. Not okay, it was not okay. And Jensen kept on looking at me and smiling too. You were crazy, crazy, a crazy bunch. Not okay."

Jensen smiled; he had no memories of Odie, or of something that happened so early in his childhood, but Odie and Jared, they both seemed full of memories and stories. Full of memories of him.

Family.

They had been a family.

Jensen cleared his throat: "'m sorry I went all geyser on you Odie."

Odie shrugged: "It's okay, it's okay. Wasn't the worst you ever did, wasn't, no, no."

"I probably don't wanna know what the worst thing was, huh?"

"No, no, Jensen, kiddo, no, you don't. You really, really don't. You don't. No."

"Okay, then, well, if sharing and caring is over … let's … let's do this now, before I … just …"

He turned around and glared at Jared who was still laughing silently, obviously stuck in the memory: "Stop laughing, 's not that funny."

"Oh it is. Trust me, it is."

"Shut up."

Jared stopped laughing and snorted: "Between me and Odie, we have so much embarrassing stories about you."

Jensen rolled his eyes: "You're a dead Icy."

"Ha, you wish."

Jensen said nothing. Somewhere along the way, him wishing Jared to die had stopped. He didn't want him to die. Ever.

Ever.

"Okay, so … so now what?"

Jensen was looking at Jared, feeling Odie sit down behind him. He shuddered, because no matter what had been said and done, he still felt uncomfortable having someone at his back. Someone that he didn't know, not really, someone who really could break him like a twig.

"Give me your hands."

He leaned his elbows on his muddy knees and placed his hands into Jared's, which was easy to do. Nothing bad about that, especially when Jared's palms and fingers were warm where they wrapped around his wrist.

The temperature in the cave felt the same to him all the time, constant; not cold nor hot, just right. Just perfect, especially when he knew that it was really cold outside because of the rain and that tomorrow it'll be hot again, as if the rain had never happened.

"All right. Now, you comfortable?"

Jensen shifted a bit, getting rid of a small pebble that was digging itself into his left ass cheek even through the bear fur: "Yeah, 'm comfy. Wait, are you … are you gonna use your mojo on me?"

"No, I'm not. Odie will."

"Yes, yes, yes I will, I will. Don't be scared, that's nothing to be scared of. Nothing, I promise. It won't hurt. It won't, I won't let it. I promise."

Odie's voice came from behind him and he flinched, squeezing Jared's wrist a bit tighter and looked away when Jared gave him that look, that 'Odie won't hurt you' look. It wasn't a good look.

"I know Odie, I … I know."

"Okay, okay, Jensen focus on me now. Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Jensen nodded; he could feel something flutter under his fingertips, something slow and steady, as if something was tapping lightly on the pads of his fingers.

"Feel it be slow?"

"Yeah."

"Feel your own be really fast?"

He frowned; he couldn't feel it, not really.

"You can feel it, 'm pressing down, you should feel it. Just concentrate."

He was concentrating on the point where Jared's fingers were pressing into his wrist, making his skin dent in.

"Yeah, I … feel it."

"Feel it be fast?"

Jensen nodded; it was fast, faster than Jared's, but maybe that was just because he was kinda freakin' out here.

"We need to get you to get your heartbeat down to as slow as mine is."

"Okay, I just have to … get used to this, because I have to be honest, this is really weird. I'm not … I don't feel comfortable."

Jared shook his head, hair in sweaty clusters flying over the area where Jensen now knew crystal hid underneath: "'s not that. It's you being human. Our heartbeat is slower because it's not really a heart that's beating. It's a crystal. A pulsing crystal. The … our spine. The one that …"

"You die if it's … if it's damaged."

"Yeah, everything dies if you take it's heart away."

The image of Noleih holding a wiggly crystal he'd pulled out of Alineja and how it turned solid really fast flashed before his eyes. Flashed so fast his eyes started to sting, the telltale of approaching tears, but Odie's soft, rushed voice made them retreat.

"It's pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, all the time, Jensen. I feel it in me, feel it be so alive, kicking and kicking in me, at me, all the time Jensen. Pulsing, pulsing, fluttering," he didn't flinch this time when Odie's arm sneaked under his left armpit and the old Icy's small palm rested over his fast beating heart, "all the time pulsing, can you feel it, Jensen, kiddo, can you feel it? Beat, beat, beat, all the time, day and night, all the time."

He ripped his eyes away from Jared's and looked down, first at Odie's hand lying across his heart and then to where Jared was holding his hands. He could feel and hear his heartbeat and how it didn't match Jared's. His was fast, three beats to Jared's one and he didn't know how to …

"But that's not my heart. I can't make it go that slow. My heart's not a crystal."

"You're half us, you _can_ do it, you just need to calm yourself down."

"Yeah, easier said than done, you know?"

"I know but I also know that you can do it. I've seen you do it. I've … felt you do it before."

"What? What the … when?"

This wasn't helping at all, it was just making him more uncomfortable and agitated and he could see that Jared knew that too.

"When we were at the house, when I went to get some clothes. You … your heart was beating like my crystal was pulsing. The same speed."

"I was asleep."

"Were you?"

"Yeah…"

"You sure about that?"

"I think I'd know when I'm asleep and when 'm awake."

"Think back, Jensen. Were you really asleep?"

None of this was making any sense at all, of course he'd been asleep for fuck's sake, he'd been sleeping and he'd been… dreaming.

"Of course I was, I was even dreaming."

"About?"

He shrugged: "Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Stars. Was dreaming about stars. After … after I dreamed of Alineja, I dreamed of stars," he whispered, looking down at his thighs, trying to tug his hands out of his uncle's hold. But the Icy was strong, breaking bones strong and he just squeezed tighter, grinding delicate bones together. Or maybe even crystals, Jensen couldn't be sure if they ran from his fingers up to his arm too. But he wanted to find out, somehow someday, he wanted to find out.

"The stars, Jensen. We're all from the stars."

"Stars, stars, shiny, bright, planets and universes, darkness and gasses, crystals and nothingness, kiddo, Jensen. Stars way up there, up and up and light, bright and cold. We're all from up there when there was nothing at all there. Nothing and everything, Jensen, kiddo."

Odie's voice sounded as if it was coming from miles and miles away and now from behind his back. Miles upon miles, as if the Icy went up to the stars and was speaking to him from a long way up.

He looked at the ceiling; at all the stalactites up there like falling stars. He could hear water drip somewhere close by, _drip drip drip_ , steady and hypnotic and he tried to ignore it, but it was too loud, too close for his ears not to pick up the noise _drip drip drip_ …

… he could hear thunder from the outside, could feel it shake the ground beneath his ass, _drip drip drip_. A shiver ran up his bare hands, the t-shirt he wore doing nothing to shelter him from the constant cool of the cave.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He wanted to look around, see where the hell the water was making such a racket, but the stalactites above his head had him under their spell.

A sharp tug on his wrist broke the spell and made him look away, locking his eyes with his uncle's. The _drip drip drip drip drip_ of the water was still in his ears, but it was getting fainter with each hit of Odie's palm on his chest. There was a rhythm to those slaps … the crystals, the pulsing. He could feel that; one tap to his three heartbeats. One pulse, one flutter to three of his beats.

"Humans call it space, we called it home before it was anything at all."

Jensen's skin felt tight, too big to stretch comfortably over his bones. He thought he could feel it break at some points, break apart and reveal tissue and bones, crystals maybe. Reveal who he really was, but when he looked at himself, there were no spots of blood anywhere. Just mud on his jeans and his hands clasped tightly in Jared's. Nothing else, but he still felt as if he was breaking apart.

"You dream of the stars Jensen, like they're your home too, don't you?"

Jared's voice was a soft whisper that spilled all over his body like cool water on a hot day.

He licked his lips: "Y-eah."

Thunder reverberated through him again, shaking the walls of the cave.

Odie's palm was still tapping over his heart; one tap to his two heartbeats. Two? Hadn't it been three before?

"I know you do. Everyone dreams of home, Jensen. Home takes all the bad away, home … home is safety."

He nodded, didn't trust his vocal cords to do their job. He couldn't even believe that he answered with a 'yes', because his home wasn't the stars. It was Earth. It was North America. A state called Oklahoma. Or Texas. Or maybe right at the border, no one told him for sure. But it definitely wasn't space.

"But … 'm not … I wasn't born there."

"Your daddy, Jensen, your daddy gave you a sense of memories, he gave you his love of his home, gave you, gave you his home, gave you feeling of, of, of home and and love. Hid a part of himself in you, in your fingers, in your … in you, kiddo. Daddy gave you the sense of his home. 's why you go to the stars, you go to them, you squeeze and you squeeze your eyes shut just so that you can see bursts of light, light and stars and home, Jensen, kiddo. Home takes all the bad away."

Tap, beat beat, tap, beat beat, tap.

His chest was starting to get sore where Odie was tapping him, but it was a good feeling.

"Jensen, hey …"

He looked back at Jared and bit his tongue from shouting, because the bright blue-bright green-specks of violet-bright yellow-one speck of orange of his uncle's eyes caught him by surprise. He was used to Jared's eye color changing, the crystals beneath the eyes changing color depending on the angle light hit Jared's eyes, but he had always been prepared to see that.

But this, here, now …

"You've got to let some things go. Your anger, your fear, your pain, resentment, mourning. You have to let all of that go. Then you'll see."

"I c-c-an't do that. 's not that easy."

"It's as easy as you make it."

"It's as easy as one, two, three. As easy as ABC, you remember when we taught you ABC? You remember? A then B then C then D all the way to Z. All the way to the last letter, it's as easy as that. Letters, numbers, as easy, Jensen, kiddo, it is, it is and you have to, you have to, you must. Otherwise Noleih will use it, use it all and turn you, twist you, make you go bad. You're not bad, never was bad, never bad. Scared, angry, but never bad. The humans and my brothers and sisters Noleih has under him, they were twisted and wrong and and and distorted, their emotions, feelings, memories just spun around into bad, mangled. "

"Noleih has power, has influence, has those slimy words he uses to squeeze things inside someone into something distorted."

"There's so much inside of you, kiddo so much that Noleih could use. So much … bring you to him, bring you to follow him, kill for him. Everything you feel, all of it, what you have in your mind … he'll bent into wrong. Make you kill for him, make you kill Jared, kill me."

"N-n-no." he breathed out, his voice shaking with how much he wanted Noah dead. Dead. And how much he wanted to not feel like that, because he knew that if Noah would come near him, the Icy could easily turn that desire into a desire to kill Jared. Or Odie. And he couldn't have that, he'd rather push the knife into his own heart.

He didn't tear his eyes away from Jared's when he whispered: "I don't know how."

"We'll help, we will, 's why we're here, Jensen, kiddo, we'll help. We'll make you, help you, we will, Jared and I we will. You're doing good, so well. One tap, two beats, one tap, two beats. Doing good."

Odie's palm thumped his chest once, two times and then went away for a second until Jensen could feel warm, heavy fingers on his sweaty temples.

Even with the temperature in the cavern, he was sweating like crazy. His neck was wet, he could feel it, his arms were suspiciously glistering too and his palms were drenched.

"Wha-?"

"Jensen, it's okay. You just close your eyes. We gotcha. Trust us."

He didn't want to close his eyes, didn't want to give himself to the dark, but he closed them anyway. What was the worst that could happen?

Death; that was the worst that could happen. Two Icies ripping and tearing him apart, could happen.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling Jared twist their hands so that his palms pointed upwards to the cave's ceiling. He wanted to open his eyes, to see what Jared was doing, but couldn't because Odie's fingers were rubbing small circles over his temples and it made him sway into a feeling of content.

He shouldn't feel that way, it was wrong, he shouldn't … but Odie's fingers massaging his temples and Jared's fingers slip-sliding on the sensitive skin of his wrist … made him feel exactly that.

He shouldn't, but he did and it made him breathe out a long breath. He tried to lean his head back, but Odie was strong, holding his head steady just by those fingers pressing down on his temples.

He could feel Jared's index fingers stretch up his forearms, while the other fingers were pressing his hands down half on his own knees and half on Jared's.

"We gotcha, Jensen."

He tried to nod, but Odie was holding his head steady and he couldn't twitch a muscle. He was going to start purring soon, like cats he'd sometimes came across when he had been a little younger. Purr and moan; it was getting really hard to keep all the sounds of pleasure inside so he bit his lip, trying for pain to stop him.

He was swaying back and forth, short and abrupt movements; falling back to Odie's fingers and forth to Jared holding his hands, rubbing the index fingers over the soft skin of the inside of his forearm.

He felt as if he was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Sitting and flying, pinned down and floating. His breaths were drawn out, long and steady coming out of his slightly parted lips and he wasn't even thinking about how the air smelled of cold and dampness, dirt and water. It just felt so good to fill up his lungs with air that took a long time coming in and took a long time going out.

Then something changed. Something crackled through the air, something that wasn't thunder and wasn't water dripping … something that made warm liquid ooze down the sides of his face. Something that made Odie's fingers feel smoother than before, thinner than before, stronger, much stronger.

Those weren't fingertips pressing into his temples anymore. Fingers could never be that sleek and polished. Felt like silk on his skin; Alineja had found a silk dress in one of the houses and wore it throughout the hot fall. That silken dress had glided through his finger whenever he'd touched it and Odie's fingers felt just like that. As if they'd just glide right through his grip if he'd touch them.

"You gotta let some things go, Jensen, let things go away," Odie was making circles on his temples with a steady pressure, "let this thing go," a circle, "and this one and this one," a circle, a circle, "and this one, you don't need them. Don't need them at all. Let this one go, let it all go."

With every small circle Odie did, Jensen fell further and further into a state of being everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He was drifting yet feeling stuck to the ground, he was sliding through the air, but he could feel the solidness of earth underneath him. He was being carried away by the feel of Jared's palm pressing down on his pulse point; steady fingers, warm and soft pads of them; like feathers caressing the inside of his forearm.

"Let it go Jensen, so many things, so many memories, tearing you apart, tearing your mind, your soul, your heart, so many, so many, so many, let them go. This one," a circle, "and this one," a circle, "and this one. Let it all go. You don't need them, you never needed them, never had to form them."

He was starting to gasp for breath; that insistent circular motion was making him dizzy and nauseas, but at the same time he felt as if he was falling forward, gravity pushing heavily on his back. Descending, dropping deeper into an abyss, a big, pitch black hole he could see forming right before his eyes.

It didn't feel evil, didn't look evil, didn't make him wanna scream and run and kick and fight and kill and steal and rage and hurt.

It felt like comfort and warm sun. Felt like Alineja's arms around him when she'd hugged him. Felt like his uncle's watery eyes when he'd babbled his first word - 'Sam'. Felt like Odie's beaming smile when he'd asked for more snake soup, felt like his uncle giving him a high five after he'd dumped a fistful of wriggling worms on Alineja's head, felt like Odie's hand holding his tiny one walking down the tunnels of the cave, exploring and naming things. Felt like his uncle throwing him up in the air and catching him, never letting him fall and Alineja crying out to be safe, careful. Felt like laughter and happiness and nights spend tucked under his uncle's arms; warm, safe and sheltered. Felt as if his heart was shattering like Noah had shattered Jared and left him to die.

Jared's own brother had left Jared to die, alone and in pain, shattered into pieces of crystals, pieces of him … everywhere. His uncle … crushed to pieces and left to death.

"Shhh, shh, shhh…"

He couldn't tell whose voice that was; his heartbeat was so loud, booming in his ears as if it was situated there and not in his rib cage, safely hidden under bones where nothing could damage it. Nothing, but anger and fear and memories of uncle Sammy leaving him, of Alineja being killed, of people's wide open eyes as he slit their throats or pulled his arrows out of their still hearts.

He could hear Jared's breathing though, puffs of warm air on his face, felt the Icy's heartbeat be as slow as honey running down his fingers, so slow, undamaged and unburdened by bad memories, loss and sadness, mourning.

He knew, deep down he _felt_ that the loss of sisters and brothers, a brother gone rogue, killing their own family, destroying Earth, destroying their home, everyone's home out of fear, out of a desire to keep what was theirs first pure and only theirs was making Jared angry and hurt and sad. But the thought of home, the memories of home had taken all that and turned it into something that didn't make Jared bitter, didn't make him crumble, didn't make him succumb to it all and go crazy like his brother had. Or join his brother.

"You understand now, Jensen, how home takes all the bad away. How home strengthens you."

He couldn't nod to Jared's soft question, but he understood. He did, so help him, but he did. Home was where all the bad went and came back better, stronger, forgiven and full of forgiveness. He understood that now; understood why, when he had been with Alineja and his uncle, he'd felt ten thousand pounds lighter than he did now. They took away everything, but left him with joy and happiness and safety and love.

Home.

Family.

"Shhh, shhh, sh, shh …"

He gasped when the hole he had been falling into enveloped him completely, sucking him into its darkness. He could feel Odie's breaths scrape his nape, could feel Jared's fingers gripping him tight and he knew his uncle wouldn't let anything happen to him, just as he never had.

The hole started to lose its darkness, becoming murky then dim, forming shadows; tall and slender, with their round heads nodding to a question no one asked. Their fingers were long and skeletal, narrowing into an even thinner tip. They reminded him of pine needles; sharp and slim. Reminded him of what was touching his temples.

He was surrounded by them, shadows everywhere; left, right, up and down, their fingers touching him, but he couldn't feel them. They were there, but they weren't there. And most of all, they didn't feel bad. Didn't feel threatening, didn't feel as if they were there to hurt him. They were just there, forming out of nothing, coming out of nowhere, out of the gloom around him.

Everything was mixing and then matching, shadowy fingers caressing his cheeks, running through his hair, trying to hold his hands, intertwining his fingers with theirs but couldn't because there was nothing there. Just dark shadows and one couldn't touch a shadow. Not even in this brand new world.

The dim place was vibrating with his heartbeat – so slow now, so slow, but definitely his – the susurrus surrounding him was comforting, like not many things were. It felt as if he could do anything and all and nothing would hurt him. Nothing could hurt him. Not here, among all these shadows. Among all this serenity.

"Jensen, what do you see?"

It took a while for him to process that he had been asked a question, what the question was, what the reply was and how to voice it. Took minutes and minutes of thin fingers trying to tickle his feet and minutes and minutes of a sense of someone laughing.

"Ssssh'dws," he took a breath, "ssshhhadows."

If anything was said to that he didn't hear, he was too busy trying to pull at a shadow's finger. But the shadow was too fast, snapping its finger away in the last second. It was a game and the laughter – a giggle - filled his ears again and he could feel his lips twitch, wanting to form a smile of his own.

Among all the shadows and them trying to touch every inch of him, exploring with no touch, he missed how the murky darkness formed stars – everywhere. All around him. Stars. He was swimming among them, suspended in air with the shadows dancing and laughing around him.

He licked his lips, dry tongue dragging across dry skin and healing cuts and stuttered: "S-s-ssstars."

"How many stars?"

"F-f-few, the rest … 's all d-d-darknesssss."

"You afraid?"

"No."

"You scared of the dark, Jensen?"

"No."

No, Jensen wasn't scared of _this_ darkness, he had stars here, sparkling and so, so bright almost chasing away the shadows. It was all so beautiful, he wanted to reach out and touch them, hide them into his palm and keep them with him forever. Always there whenever he wanted.

But he couldn't do that; the stars belonged to the shadows, he could feel it. Deep down somewhere in his mind, he knew that the stars belonged to the shadows.

Jared looked at Odie and nodded, waiting for his brother to grip Jensen's head tighter and hold still. With Odie's fingers in their natural form Odie was stronger, steadier, the crystals glowing dark, dark blue with a hint of white sparkles.

He didn't want Jensen to hurt himself in any way, because that would just tear him apart. Hurting his nephew was something that tore at his soul and his crystals and he'd rather pull out his own spine than let anything happen to Jensen. Even just watching Odie's blood and flesh run down the side of his nephew's face was making his stomach roll, but that wasn't Jensen's blood, wasn't Jensen's tissue and skin. Jensen was doing just fine.

He breathed out and focused on his index fingers that were resting on Jensen's inner forearms. He watched his skin starting to fall apart, how the veins and tissue fell off in chunks down between his legs, how his fingers became the crystals that they were supposed to be. That they would be, if they hadn't have to be hidden under all the fake skin and fake tissue. The air seemed to grip them and pull, elongating them, making them grow all the way to Jensen's elbows. It felt liberating to finally stretch them, to uncramp them from the blunt, short, fat fingers humans had. He felt confined, imprisoned under all this skin, but it was necessary and he was used to it, but that didn't mean that he didn't shed his skin and allow the air to stretch his crystals whenever he had a moment of privacy.

They were bright blue-green, thin and long – nine, perhaps ten inches long - with a sharp point, sharper than a thorn's tip. Sharper than anything he'd ever seen and he didn't know why that was. Not even his Father had known why they were as they were.

"Jensen…"

He meant it as a warning, but he was sure that his nephew was occupied enough by the shadows and the stars to really feel and hear what was happening in the here and now. Or at least he hoped Jensen was as he pushed the tip of the crystals through Jensen's freckled skin and kept on pushing, right along the veins that were going from Jensen's wrists to the bends of his elbows.

He didn't know which hand was hiding Jensen's crystal, so he had to do it on both hands. He had to find it, had to touch it with his own, had to connect with his nephew that way. Had to make Jensen see and speak and understand.

The long, sharp crystals were pushing their way beneath the thin skin, bulging out until they stopped an inch away from the bends of the elbows. It felt so warm beneath Jensen's skin, warm and wet and alive. He looked down and saw how the skin was raised up and he knew there was some damage done to Jensen's arms, but nothing he or Odie couldn't fix. It would be okay. It would be all right, but when Jensen cried out and tears started to appear between the eyelashes of his tightly shut eyes and run down his cheeks, Jared barely made himself go on. They needed to do this, there wouldn't be a second chance. Noleih was getting stronger and stronger with each passing day, recruiting more and more humans and Icies alike and he needed to be stopped.

"Jensen, hey, hey, it's okay, you're doing really good, just easy, okay. Easy …"

He pushed both of his crystals down, deeper into the flesh and when he hit Jensen's crystal, a pulse of power hit him, making him stumble over his breaths. It was like a burst of light, a punch to his chest and he gasped before he was able to reign in all the energy from the contact. He knew Jensen would be powerful, Lemmy had been as well, but this … he didn't expect it to be this much force.

Jensen was his father's son, no matter if his mother had been a human. Or maybe because his mother had been a human, Jensen was this powerful, this strong, this smart, with this much capacity to do things. Anything.

There was no more doubt in his mind that Jensen could withstand anything Noleih would throw at him.

The Icy's side and the human side inside of Jensen would make sure to keep the kid safe. To keep him strong.

"J-j-jarrred, f-," Jensen bit his lip, holding the curse in, because the stars didn't deserve to be tainted by bad things, "huuuurtssss …" he gritted through clenched teeth, not really knowing why it hurt, how it hurt, where it hurt, he just knew something hurt. Something in him hurt, hurt bad, stinging, tearing, scraping at things that weren't allowed to be touched.

But the stars and the shadows where still there, still comforting, now more than ever, because the hurt was sending waves upon waves of pain up to his brain. He wanted to scream but a shadow put its finger on his lips, silencing him. They were whispering to him in strange whistling sounds that he couldn't understand, but still knew were to be meant to soothe.

"Sssstop … s-s-s-sstop…"

Jensen wanted to move, wanted to run away, wanted so bad to touch the stars, because they were … fading, they were disappearing, they were running away and he wanted to run with them, to them, he wanted them back. But he couldn't move. He was held tight, pinned down, his hands held tight, pressed down, shackled with fire.

"Hurts, please …" he gasped and groaned, trying to hunch forward and hide his heart that was beating so slow, he thought it'd stop completely. But he couldn't, his head was held still and his arms were held tight and he couldn't move. He wanted his knife, he wanted his bow and arrows, he wanted it all, wanted his fingers gripping the wooden handle of his knife, wanted his fingers to pull on the bow string, make it tight and dangerous and then release it, listening to that _whoosh_ sound of the arrow flying through the air.

He wanted this pain to stop and the shadows were running their darkness all around him, trying to hold him close and give him something to concentrate on and forget that he hurt.

"I know, I know, it's okay. Just ... tell me what you see."

"Darkness … the stars're gone, just ssshadows..."

"Are you afraid?"

"N-no."

"Good."

"Please …"

"I know it hurts, 'm sorry, 's so sorry. But I needed you to see where we came from. From the darkness. Home."

"H-h-h-home."

The shadows twirled around him, twisting and doing somersaults, making him forget that his body was alight with burning pain.

"You can leave things here, Jensen. Leave them with the shadows, they'll take them. They're your family too. They're your home too. 's okay."

"Uhh, w-what?"

"Don't. Just … let it go, your fears, your anger, what you miss, what you mourn, what makes you scream, what makes you have nightmares, what keeps your from sleep, what makes you sad, all the ones you killed … all of that, you can leave that there. It's okay, it's dark, no one will know. Odie and I, we won't know. No one will know. It's just home, Jensen, the shadows won't tell."

"I can't …"

"Yes you can, just let it all go. It's just you and them, no one will see what you'll leave there. No one. I promise. The shadows will take it and they'll keep it safe. They can't speak anymore. They're gone, memories of the past. They won't tell."

"H-how do I …"

"I've … connected the crystals, can you feel it?"

"Yeah it," he whimpered, "… hurts."

"'m sorry, but there was just no other way … just … Jensen … just tell them. Talk to them, they'll listen, I promise. You can talk to them now. We're all one in the end, Jensen, okay? Just talk to them."

He didn't know how to talk to them, how to even be heard over all the murmurs but then a shadow peeled itself away from all the others and stopped inches from him, tapping his forehead with a sharp point.

" _Knock, knock."_

He knew this one, it was an old joke: _"Who's there?"_

" _All your secrets are here, with us, safe. Locked. No worries anymore, Jensen, my baby."_

Then they were gone as if they had never even been there, as if he hadn't been bathing in dark shadows for hours on end, as if none of this had ever happened. Everything was just gone and he was alone. Alone and shaking and gasping for breath.

He felt as if he was dying, but dying probably never felt as if he could live forever.

Jared started to pull his fingers out of his nephew's forearms, grimacing at Jensen's scream of pain, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Humans felt pain, it was how they were, he couldn't stop that no matter how much he wanted or tried. Jensen would survive, he was a tough kid, he was a strong kid and after this, he would be unburdened by all of the things Noleih could use against Jensen. Or him.

He shushed Jensen when he pulled out the tip and the kid all but howled with pain, eyes scrunched shut and cheeks wet with tears.

His fingers were bloody; red, hot liquid running down the glossy crystals and he remembered the exact same thing happen to his Father when he'd placed the tracking device in that creature.

He licked the blood off, looking at Odie over Jensen's head. He could see Odie's eyes flash blue-green-purpe-orange in want, but the man had to remember his place. Jensen was Jared's, and so was Jensen's blood. His. No one else's.

Jensen's blood tasted of rust and warmth and it slid down his throat like the most delicious water. He licked his lips and concentrated on putting tissue and skin over the fingers, covering everything up nicely. He didn't want to scare Jensen.

Before he knew it the pads of his fingers were rubbing Jensen's pulse points while the kid was passed out, lying on his left side.

"You think this worked?"

"Time will tell, my king, time will tell. When he will wake up, we will see, we will see, you'll see, Jared. You'll see."

Jared smacked his lips, licked his gums, still tasting Jensen's blood and smiled.

They'd see.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 8**

He knew he was sleeping, he knew that, because out there in the real world, colors like these didn't exist, not even in the Icies' eyes. They were surreal, both bright and dark, shades of grays turning into purple and to green and into blackness that spilled all across dim blue. Couldn't tell where he was – or where he wasn't – couldn't tell if he was standing or flying, there were just colors all around him, seeping into him through every hole his body possessed, every pore, through his eyes and his hair. All around him, everywhere, just like those shadows had been before colors stole the show.

His heartbeat was slow and steady – the beat of it so loud around him, as if he was standing inside his heart – his breathing nice and easy too. Sleeping, with nothing in his mind or on his mind, except just how much he wanted to touch the lines of colors surrounding him, how much he wanted those shadows back, how much he wanted to hear them whistle and sing around him.

How much he wanted to feel safe again, wanted, needed – loved. Not petrified beyond belief, not angry, not sad or suffocating under the weight of grief and loss.

He wanted those shadows back, but knew they were lost to him. Maybe forever, but definitely for quite a while.

He listened to himself breathe out and suck air back in that sounded suspiciously like a snore which vibrated through his whole body. Shook it right to its core but when he breathed out, everything slotted back to place. Even the wavy strings of color started to dance around him slower.

The shadows took away the bad dreams and left him with this and he was so grateful he didn't know if he was crying or laughing. Couldn't feel his mouth nor his eyes, but he could feel the absence of things that brought forth nightmares. There were no voices screaming and pleading him to spare their lives, no eyes going dim and losing sparks of life, no blood-stains spreading on solid chests. No Alineja crying and bucking under Noah's strong grip. Not a trace of anger he felt for Jared abandoning him. Nothing there for him to dream about that would make him shout himself into wakefulness, nothing there behind his closed eyes to make him sweat and pant. No regret for what was and what had been, no fear or anger in him to make him wake up and reach for his knife to draw blood and cause death.

Even the feeling of constant loneliness was gone, replaced by one of belonging. He belonged now; to the Icies, to the humans, to the shadows, to the stars, to Jared and to Odie. To family.

He was sailing on a wave of calmness; like whatever pit that had swallowed him somewhere along the way had spat him out and the world around him was filled with a sense of rightness now. Everything felt good around him, felt as it should be.

A straight, delicate thread of red touched his forearm, wove itself around it, squeezing so tight he could feel it sink through the skin and flesh to the bone and he screamed.

"Fuuuuuck!"

He opened his eyes to a blurry sight of the stalactites threatening to pierce his chest. Maybe that would be better than the agony he could feel right now.

"Fuuuuuuck!"

He cried out when he tried to move; the pain shooting up his arms from the tips of his fingers to the top of his shoulders.

"Ahhh, God, fuuuck!"

He snapped his eyes close and tried to breathe through this; this whatever it was that was making him nauseas and lightheaded.

He tried to roll towards the cavern's entrance, to see where his uncle and Odie had gone, but all he could do was roll to his left then to his right and then back onto his back, screaming whenever his arms came to contact with the bear fur underneath him.

Bringing his legs up, knees touching his chest, he tried to push his arms to his chest, put some pressure on the wounded forearms because they were agony. Pure agony; throbbing in time with his heartbeat, pulsing with each breath he took.

His spine felt like it was splitting open, fissures appearing from where he'd bleed to death, as this was feeling exactly as if he was dying.

Biting his lower lip with his canines he could feel it coming this close to breaking and he didn't need more blood to spill out of him; he needed his blood, needed it to keep him alive.

When he released his lip, he panted: "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God …" trying not to bite his tongue off. It was an effort to stop himself but he did it by turning his head and biting down at the foul smelling fur instead. He didn't care about the taste that exploded in his mouth – nasty, nasty, nasty - as long as he didn't hurt himself even more.

He pressed his teeth together, munching on the coarse, thick hair, trying not to die.

"Jensen! Hey!"

He couldn't uncurl himself, couldn't do it, the pain screaming at him to hide, hide, hide, so he pressed his forearms closer to his chest with his thighs and crushed the bear's hair with his teeth.

There were noises spilling through his clenched teeth and lips, noises not even the bear fur could stop; whimpers and moans that turned into groans and screams that came out from the throat.

A heavy, warm hand on his shoulder made him flinch and release the disgusting fur only to cry out and curl even deeper into himself. He knew the hand hadn't wanted to cause pain, but it did exactly that.

"Hey, hey, hey, 's just me…"

Even the whispering voice was too much, vibrations setting off new waves of pain.

"Come on, come on …"

The hand wasn't having any of his hiding and pulled and pushed until he was lying on his left side. Another hand gripped his knees, uncurling him with a steady pressure, getting his legs away from his chest and down. He had no choice but to uncurl himself and put his arms down on the bear, gasping for air that was obviously sucked right out of the cavern, because … there was just no air.

"Jensen, hey, hey, hey, 's okay. Just breathe, come on."

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck…"

"Hey, come on, just breathe. It's just the memory of pain, okay, you just have to ride it out. Come on, it'll go away, come on."

"What," he gasped and sniffled, "didja do?"

"You know what I did, now come on, just breathe through it. 'm not kidding here, Jensen, come on."

Jared's fingers were digging themselves into his burning – or so it felt - bicep and he breathed with them; squeeze, breathe in, release, breathe out, squeeze, breathe in, release, breathe out, squeeze, breathe in, release, breathe out.

The pain was fading, sailing away slowly but surely at least so much that he was able to begin to breathe in and out without wheezing and spots appearing before his eyes.

"What, damn, ow, God, fuck … uhhh…"

He slowly rolled onto his back and looked up at Jared who was leaning over him, hands reaching out to touch him again.

"Don't you touch me, don't you dare, I'll cut your hands off, I swear."

"Jensen …"

"What?"

"Look at your arms."

He didn't really want to look at them, didn't want to see what kinda damage had to be done to them to make him feel like this. He imagined them be torn apart, clawed down to the bone, skinned or chopped up or worse – missing altogether.

If he'd ever lose his arms … then he was as good as dead, because in this world being armless was the same as being headless.

"Come on, just look at 'em."

He tried to shake his head 'no', whisper out a broken 'no', turn onto his other side and rock himself to sleep, but his uncle had other plans and before he knew it, his forearms were being held in a gentle cradle and brought to his eyes.

"See, nothing there. They're fine."

There really was no other choice for him but to look at them. Look at how they were exactly as they'd always been; a bit pale, freckled, with brown/blond hair and … black-blue dots close to both his wrists.

Two tiny pinpricks … he remembered now. He knew now.

"Mmmh think 'm gonna be sick."

Jared scoffed close to his ear: "No puking allowed, besides you wanted to leave, right?" and slowly placed his arms back down to the bear skin.

"'s still raining. We'll leave tomorrow."

Now that he saw what his arms looked like, saw that they were okay and not mangled or missing, the pain was residing, not burning him up like before. He didn't know how it was possible that he wasn't all black and blue up his whole forearms, but maybe it was because he was half half. Maybe the Icy side of him was healing him. Maybe. He could ask, but he was too tired. Too tired to waddle through any answers Jared might've given him.

"Uh, it is tomorrow."

"What?"

But, but that would mean he slept for a very, very long time.

"What time's it?"

"Morning, I think … haven't been outside."

"Shit …" he tried to get up from the ground, but fell back down, balance shot to shit, feeling tired and dizzy and this close to passing out. Pain shot through his arms again, but he could handle that now – now that he knew everything was working okay, because he could move his fingers, could move his arms. Strange what a little knowledge could do to a person.

"Okay, food first and then we're leaving," he didn't move his head away when Jared placed his palm down on his forehead, just rolled his eyes upwards to see the side of Jared's palm: "good, no fever."

"Were we expecting fever?"

"No, just … doesn't hurt to be careful."

"Yeah."

"So, how you feelin'?"

"Besides my arms?"

Jared nodded.

"Feel fine, I don't know, just the usual aches and pains, ya know?"

Jared nodded again: "But … inside?"

His uncle's hand on his forehead made him feel like a small child that he wasn't anymore. He wasn't the kid his uncle raised up, he wasn't, but it damn sure felt nice to remember those days.

The stalactites, even so high up, were bathed with the light of the fires coming from the torches Odie had set up all over the cavern, drawing his attention. He felt … it felt …

"I don't know." He whispered up to the pointy hanging rocks, not daring to look at his uncle.

"What did you dream about?"

He huffed: "Colors, lots of 'em."

"No nightmares?"

"None."

It was easier to talk up at the ceiling than directly to his uncle. The ceiling had no eyes and couldn't see him, see inside of him, see how he was.

He'd been deconstructed, he knew that now. The shadows had pulled him apart, cell after cell, stripped him of all that had plagued him ever since Alineja had died, hell, ever since he'd woken up and his uncle wasn't there to say "morning" to him. The shadows had taken his rage, all his sorrow, all the pain and loss and fear away and rebuilt him. He could still feel it all, but it was just residue.

The shadows had taken what he gave them and took care of it, he just hoped that he had given enough. Noah was strong, he'd probably be able to find even the tiniest and most stupid things and twist and turn them. Like his distaste for carrots.

"You can feel it, can't you?"

Jared's voice was wonder and curiosity all stuffed into something hoarse and Jensen nodded: "Yeah, can still feel it, but … 's like it's hidden. There, but out of my reach, you know? Hope that'll be enough."

"We'll see."

"Yeah, we'll see," he whispered and then added as an afterthought: "There're things that I can't feel anymore at all."

"Like what?"

No.

"You said to leave it with the shadows, said no one would ever know."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't've asked."

"'s okay. Curiosity is a … a thing."

"It is."

"Okay, now paws off me," wincing and hissing he raised up his right arm and pushed his uncle's palm off his forehead, "let's get some food and then leave."

"Sure you're good?"

"'m fine."

"Okay then, sounds like a plan."

He rolled his eyes: "It _is_ a plan."

"Need some help getting up?"

"Naw, I feel … better now."

"Better?"

"Yeah … better."

He did feel better, lighter. The shit he'd left in the darkness, the horror he'd given gave to the shadows made him feel lighter, brighter, sharper. Made him feel like he could do anything and walk on air. It was weird and it would definitely require some getting used to. He'd never felt so free, unburdened by loss and the need to be better and stronger. It was liberating to feel something without really feeling it. He just really hoped that Noah wouldn't exploit his other fears; the carrot one or the fear of dead fish. That would suck.

He stumbled on legs unsure of what they were supposed to be doing to the stony table where Odie was busy placing some jars of various sizes and colors on.

"Blueberry jam?"

"Wild strawberry jam. It's red, not blue, not dark. But red. Like," Odie licked his chapped lips, and Jensen could've sworn the old Icy's eyes turned purple-green-blue for a split second, "blood."

"Odie, uh, would you mind packing us some water? Some bread if you can spare? Maybe apples?"

"Oh, oh yes, yes, of course, Jared. Of course. Will do that right away, right now, right away."

"Good."

Jensen wasn't completely sure, but he had a vague feeling that he was missing something here. But then again, Odie was a weird fella anyway. Everything around the guy was strange, even though this was a bit stranger.

"Why must you leave? Why, why, why? You stay, please stay, you can stay, it's okay. Noleih won't hurt me. Please stay, please, pleasepleaseplease."

"Odie, we can't stay. Noleih is, he's dangerous, we can't lead him to you. I won't lead him to you, I can't do that to you, do you understand? I have to keep you safe, protect you, just like you did when I was … when I was dying. Okay? Do you understand?"

"I do, I do, do, do, do but I don't want to. Don't want to, please just stay, Jared, my King, please stay, please. Don't go."

Jared's sighed words were born out of frustration, but there was patience in them too: "Odie, please listen to me. Please go back to the cave, stay in there and you'll know when to come out. You know you will." Jensen couldn't help but wonder how there could be so much patience. No one could have that much patience and if Jensen were in Jared's place, he'd lose his shit hours ago.

"I know, I know, I do, I really do, I promise I'll hide, I'll hide, I will, I swear. I'll go and and be in my cave and come out when it's done. When it's all done, I'll come out then and go to sleep, right? We'll go to sleep? We will, right? Jared? Right?"

"We'll go to sleep, my brother. You'll have a spot right next to me, I swear on my Father's crystals."

That made Odie's eyes start to glisten and a tear slid down the wrinkly, leather like skin: "All right, okay, I'll go now. Keep safe, please keep safe, please, stay safe. Just safe, please."

Jensen watched with a knot in his throat as Jared hugged Odie, hugged his brother tight enough to crush bones and then held the old Icy at arm's length, his voice steady and strong, worthy of a King as he said: "We'll stay safe."

And that was his cue he figured, didn't really know for sure, he wasn't one for saying goodbyes. He was terrible at those, because he never actually said goodbyes to anyone in his life before. He couldn't have said goodbye to Alineja, he never said goodbye to his uncle, because the man had just disappeared one day. He had no friends to say goodbye to and all the people he had come into contact with were traders or people he'd killed. Maybe he could count his hookups as people he said goodbye to, but normally he just slid out of bed after the chick he'd been with fell asleep and …left. No goodbyes there either.

Huh.

"Uh, so well … Odie, it's been … something, huh?"

He was not expecting the willowy man to all but lunge himself at him, wrapping those twig like arms around him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

His first thought was about his bow and quiver, if he man was strong enough to break anything of that. Then he thought of his knife and if Odie might cut himself with that but then reflex kicked in and he carefully hugged the Icy back.

"Stay safe, kiddo, safe, okay? You must be safe and talk to Noleih, must make him see reason, make him go back to sleep with us. Keep Jared safe, right, pleasepleaseplease keep Jared safe! Please!"

He swallowed: "I will, trust me. Things'll be okay." and looked at Jared who was standing a few feet away, hands at his waist. There were no emotions on his uncle's face, none, it was a blank canvas with brown eyes, brown hair and thin lips. But there was a deep nod when Jensen clapped Odie's back two times and then tried to let go. Tried being the operative word here, because Odie was reluctant to let him go, holding onto him tighter for a few more seconds and he was actually starting to feel a bit faint. The man's strength was unbelievable, pressing down on his lungs, making him gasp with short breaths.

"Odie, let go, I can't breathe."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, you okay? You okay? 'm sorry, kiddo, so sorry."

"It's okay, Odie," he smiled, "no harm done."

"Leave Noleih okay, make him get okay, please. Keep him safe too. Safe, just safe, please, please, don't hurt him. Nobody get hurt, please, I forbid it."

Jensen quirked his lips; he wasn't sure that Odie's 'I forbid it' tactic would work with this particular matter, but he could play along: "Well Odie if you put it like that, then 'm sure no one would get hurt."

"Don't you make fun of me, puke boy. Don't you, silly goose who pukes and pees all over the place, don't you dare."

He smiled at the stern look that washed over Odie's face before those chapped lips formed a smile and that twig-like arm swatted at his chest.

"Hhh-ow, that hurts."

He wasn't exaggerating, it really did hurt. The man might look as if a light breeze could knock him over, but the strength there was uncanny.

"Now promise, promise, promise you won't hurt our brother. Promise."

He clenched his jaw, because hell no, he wouldn't keep Noleih safe, that bastard was going down one way or another, but for Odie, for the old man who had seen so much, who had lost so much - he could lie. He was good at lying anyway so what would be one more lie in a pot of many? Nothing.

He clasped Odie's shoulder, pulling back the strength with which he wanted to squeeze the bone and said: "I promise, Odie," with as much seriousness as he could muster up in his voice.

He was wrong. It wasn't nothing; as soon as the words came out of his mouth, a sting hit his chest, his heart feeling as if it had been stepped on and pulverized. Odd. Very odd. He had lied so many times, to so many people on so many occasions, and he thought that he could say this lie right then too, just like that, without even blinking, but no, it stung. It stung him really deep.

"Keep Jared safe, keep him safe. We can't lose him again, Jensen, kiddo, please keep him safe. Keep yourself safe. Don't get hurt, don't allow Jared to get hurt, please."

Odie's eyes were filling with tears again while the previous set hadn't even dried yet and it was awkward. Just awkward; he'd never been around so many tears before, the last time he'd seen anyone really cry – besides Odie – was Ely. She'd cried and bled and he hadn't been able to do anything about it but whisper sorry until she'd cried herself to sleep. That had been uncomfortable as hell and since then he rather looked for sex with more 'experienced' girls.

Ely was probably dead now.

He shook his head: "I will, I swear."

That one didn't sting at all. Didn't feel like a lie either. It just felt … right to say that he'd never allow anything to happen to Jared and he knew that his uncle would never allow anything to happen to him either.

"Goodbye, goodbye Jensen, goodbye kiddo. See you when we say sleep tight, Jared, yes. See you then? See you both at sleep tight, sweet dreams, yeah? See you then? Under the ocean, under the ice? See you then?"

"Yeah Odie, count on it."

It felt strange to just turn around then and leave the old man standing there, by the mouth of the cave. Felt like abandoning him, felt like leaving him to loneliness and emptiness.

But they had to go. No looking back, even if they could hear Odie sobbing as quietly as he could behind their backs.

Jensen concentrated on the dense forest stretching before him and as he glanced at Jared, he could see that his jaw was clenched tight.

"He'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine, Jensen."

The words felt hollow, untrue, but there was nothing they could do about it.

Jensen understood why they had to leave. Odie might be a strong son of a bitch but he'd probably be no match to Noleih and Jensen was sure that Noleih wouldn't leave Odie alive, no matter that they were brothers. No matter how much Odie would plead and beg and forbid. The old man was naïve enough to think that Noleih felt any kinda of sympathy or love towards him … Jensen huffed. Fat chance of that.

While he'd been with Noleih he'd seen saw murder in his eyes, seen blood and fire and desire to kill anything coming across his path. And while Jensen had worn his anger and rage on his sleeve, for anyone to see and call him on it, Noleih kept it hidden; like a volcano waiting to erupt and when it did … the lava and the ash and the smoke would kill anyone and anything close enough.

Nolieh was a mad, mad man. His soft voice and soft eyes, so much like Jared's, were a façade. A cage that hid an animal ready to leap out and rip things apart.

But Odie would never understand that, no matter how hard anyone would try to explain it to him. Jensen understood that; family could be a bag of crazy, but love made people blind to it.

Odie was blind and crazy and loved his brother and believed in him and that was okay with Jensen. That was fine, because he would kill Noleih before the lunatic would have any chance to even think about Odie existing.

"How far are we gonna go?"

"The other side of the mountain should be far enough. Noleih'll come no matter where we call for him. He'll come."

"All right."

The lake was a white, sparkling mass hidden between the trees and they went towards it and the mountain flanking it on the other side.

Odie had packed them some bread and a jar of jam and even some apples that Jensen would start chewing on as soon as they'd stop for the night. He needed to clean his teeth so badly, he was going crazy with it - his tongue couldn't stop licking the gross fuzz on 'em.

The old man had even gotten them five bottles of clean rainwater that now sat real heavy in Jared's backpack, the machete they'd found on the dead kid weighting the backpack even more. But at least now, even Jared had some sort of protection, even if he could protect himself from humans just fine with his bare hands. Icies however, well … a machete wouldn't stop them, but it sure would hurt them.

It would be a long way across the steep mountain terrain, but Jensen agreed. They needed to keep Odie safe.

He was family and Jensen couldn't say that for Noleih. That man was just a fly for Jensen to swat at and explode its guts all over a table.

And no, that wasn't rage nor anger. It was just simple fact.

The lake was still frozen – although after all Jensen had been through he kind of expected to see water - and it would probably never unfreeze again, not in Jensen's life time and probably for many centuries to come, if ever at all. The ice looked solid enough but he wouldn't chance it. He had fallen in once, he wasn't gonna fall in twice.

Jensen tapped his knife, making sure it was still there and cleared his throat: "So, when I fell into the lake? Did … I die or … something?"

He wanted to talk – and think - about something other than Noleih, something other than what would happen once they'd settle down on the other side of the tall, broad mountain that was stretching almost all along the northern shore of the lake. It was magnificent, beautiful even, but Jensen knew that climbing up it and then descending down would be a bitch.

"No, you didn't die." Jared whispered.

"Can we just … not play these games anymore? Just tell me what happened. I promise I won't go berserk on you, because apparently I can't do that anymore."

Jared smiled: "You can still feel anger, you can get angry, you know. Noleih just won't be able to use it, abuse it, build on it."

"Okay, but still … answer my question."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're hiding something."

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Yeah, I wanna know, damn it, Jared. Just … I wanna know everything. It's my life, damn it I wanna know, okay, so just … tell me."

"Okay. And no, you didn't drown, didn't die, because I saved you."

He rolled his eyes and snapped: "I already know that, tell me something I don't know."

"I saved you by … I saved you by pushing my finger into your lungs. Making you breathe. You weren't … you weren't breathing so I … my crystal … it connected somehow with the ones in you and … I was going on instinct, you know? I just … you weren't breathing and I thought that I couldn't harm you any more than you already were so I just … you know" Jared made a stabbing motion with his index finger, "… and it worked."

Jensen stepped before Jared and halted him almost mid step by his hand on the broad, hard chest: "Whoa, whoa, whoa I'm sorry, what? Back up here a few words. What do you mean ones? Ones as in plural? As in more than the one in my finger? What? Why … why didn't you … fuck you. Just fuck you, all right? After all this, after everything you both told me, after yesterday and the shadows and just fucking everything, now you're saying there's more crystals in me?"

Well, apparently he really could still get pissed, just the _need_ to stab Jared was gone. Huh.

"Jensen, stop, hey stop. Look, I don't know for sure if there's more crystals in you, okay? We'd have to cut you open and look, okay? Do you understand? We'd have to dissect you, look at your insides and, and search for bones to see, all right?

Jensen nodded and bunched up Jared's shirt into a tight fist.

"All I know for sure is that you do have a crystal in your hand, your right one, I touched it yesterday, connected you and me. You following me, here?"

His mouth was as dry as the damn Rio Grande: "Yeah …"

"Okay."

"So you were going on blind faith?"

"I had to do something. I couldn't," he watched Jared look down at their feet, hair covering his eyes, "I couldn't let you die."

Fuck.

He squeezed Jared's shirt with his fingers even tighter, wanting to rip it apart just because, and then rapped at his uncle's chest with his knuckles a few times and let go. The shirt remained bunched up, wrinkly.

"Yeah. Uh, yeah, okay."

He took a step back and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

Damn it.

Of course it would make sense that he had more crystals in him, he couldn't just have one or two that belonged to his other side. Of course not, but hell if it didn't feel really bizarre to know that inside of him, somewhere, at some place, bone wasn't bone but crystal.

Huh.

He threw down his bow, struggled out of the strap that held the quiver and raised up his shirts, looking at the spot where his lungs were. He ran his hands up and down the area, but couldn't find any … holes, any scars. It was just skin as it had always been. As he ran his hand up and down his chest, he wondered if any of his ribs were made of crystals.

Huh.

"You won't find anything. 's all healed up now, but there was a hole. But it healed up really good."

"But you pushed … a crystal … into my lungs. Into my damn lungs, how the hell didn't they like, I don't know, collapse? Or filled up with water or some shit?"

"I did and 'm not sorry, Jensen. 'm sorry about a lot of things, but that ain't one of 'em. And I think you being part … us … helped."

He was still sliding his hand up and down his smooth chest, searching for any scars, but there was nothing that would scream 'a crystal went into you right here'.

"Let's move on, come on, Jensen."

He was still standing there, shirts pulled up to his chin, running his trembling fingers across the whole expand of his chest, thinking of where all the crystals were hiding.

Jared was a hundred or so feet away already when he finally pulled down his shirts, grabbed the bow and quiver and ran after him.

He'd been right, hiking up the mountain was a bitch but at least this time he was nearing a goal, he was getting closer and closer to actually doing something, making something happen. Maybe even putting the end to all of this. Giving people a fighting chance to rebuild life without living in fear that the Icies would find them and slaughter them just because they existed.

The sun was making the little pebbles - and the not so little pebbles that were forming the passage across the mountain - shine and reflect the bright light. He held his head down, feeling his nape getting sunburned, but there was nothing he could do about that. Let it get burned, whatever. He was tired and thirsty and his arms still ached a bit and the pebbles were starting to look like little stars with each step he took.

Stars. Millions and millions of them, right there under his feet. Right there under his torn up sneakers – he'd need to get (steal) some new shoes soon – millions of tiny, white, shiny stars.

He was just putting one foot in front of the other, step by step by step, the repetition of movement lulling him into his mind where his thoughts weren't loaded with all the things that had weighted him down ever since his uncle had left.

He remembered what had happened yesterday, remembered the dark hole sucking him in, the stars exploding with tiny bursts of light, and the shadows. The giggling, whistling, singing shadows that were telling him to let everything go - _no worries anymore, Jensen_.

And then the pain, the god-awful pain that had hit him from nowhere, chasing away all the shadows.

The pebbles were like beacons; calling for him to come closer, come nearer and he was able to feel himself starting to hunch lower and lower and lower, the tips of his fingers already skimming the ground, when he slipped and caught himself with his right hand, skinning his palm and the underside of his fingers. But the pain was sharp enough to get him back to the here and now.

"Jensen, you all right?"

He looked at his torn palm; blood and white sand and ragged skin. And something blue-green glittering beneath his ring finger. He didn't skin it down to the bone, so the crystal was just peeking at him, but it was there. It was definitely there.

He brought his hand closer to his eyes and blinked.

"I'm okay," he breathed out, "'m fine."

Crystal.

"You sure? You look a bit pale. You hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine, just … skinned my palm. Had worse, its fine."

"You sure?"

He looked at Jared, who was a bit higher up the trail and nodded. He couldn't explain to anyone, not even to himself, why he didn't tell his uncle about the crystal he could see. In his finger. Right there. Covered in blood, yeah, but still visible, still very blue-green. It wasn't as if Jared didn't know there was a crystal there, it wasn't as if they hadn't just talked about all this a few hours ago. But he just couldn't … say it. Saying it, showing the crystal to his uncle would make it real. For real real.

"I'm sure, let's go on."

Crystal.

He wiped the blood onto his pants and looked back at the finger.

Crystal.

"Wanna rest some?"

"Uh … yeah, yeah sure."

They were already on the other side of the mountain, just needed to descend down to the forest that looked tiny as an ant below the mountain.

They sat down on the warm ground, under a shade of a big boulder and got out the water bottles.

"You should wash off that blood, shouldn't, uh, have your hand bleed like that."

Jensen looked down at his palm; the blood had dried already and if he'd go poking at it now, it would just start to bleed again and the crystal … there was a crystal in his finger.

A crystal that probably killed his mom, cut her inside and made her bleed. Made her die.

He swallowed down a big gulp of water and put the cap back on the bottle; no need to get clumsy and spill any of the precious liquid.

"Naw, 's okay. The blood's dried up by now."

"You really should clean it, infection and, uh all that."

"Meh, it's okay."

"Jensen! Just, please, clean it off."

"Whoa, what crawled into your ass?"

"Nothing, just … Jensen, just please, clean it off."

He looked at Jared, saw him starting to sweat, tiny drops already running down his temples and down his neck, wetting the tips of the hair there.

"There's something … you're hiding something from me, aren't you? Again! After all of this, fucking asshole, just … damnit, Jared you make me so pissed sometimes … I just wanna … I wanna throw you to the ground and beat the living shit out of you, okay? I know that wouldn't kill you, but it would hurt and I just … you make me so angry, but … I can't do that. I feel angry, but not to the point of actually doing that. Man, this is some freaky shit, okay? It's like I wanna, but I don't wanna."

"That's actually good, you know? Means that Noleih won't be able to … make you do it. You just feel like you want to, but you can't. You're angry, but not to the point of acting on it. That's a good thing."

"Yeah, feels weird, ya know!? I mean all this time, I've done what I felt doing, but now … now I just … don't want to. It's hard to explain, hard to … put it to words, it's just how it feels. But that's not the point here, is it?"

"Jensen …"

"Just tell me!"

"It's your blood okay!? Okay? It smells warm and it feels warm and it tastes warm and it's so warm and it's so red and just please …"

"I need something more than that."

"Your blood feels really warm."

"Feels? What do you mean, feels?"

"Inside."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he got up from the ground and held his hand towards Jared, silently telling him to back off, shut up and stop "inside. Of you? What, you kinda a blood junky? A vampire or somethin'?"

He knew of vampires, he read books, comics, magazines … read everything he could get his hands on, even if it was decades old. Stories remained, written or spoken, stories were inerasable, stuck as black print on any paper that hadn't been used as a fire starter.

"No, no! Jensen, no. Nothing like that. It's just … your blood, human blood, not just yours, it's really warm. We've slept in the ice for so long, we've been in the cold for so long that that warmth … of human blood … it's just really nice."

"Nice?"

"Nice. Good. It feels good to have something warm flow inside of us."

"But, but you feel warm, like when I touch you, you're warm. I mean you're not _made_ of ice."

"No, we're not made of ice. We're made of crystals, solid, we can't melt. It's just … it feels nice to have that warmth flow inside, flow through everything that's hollow inside. And before you ask, no, I didn't drink any of your mom's blood. But … but Noleih, he … he does it. A lot."

He hadn't even thought about that – about his mom, but if Jared said that he hadn't then he hadn't. It had probably been very enticing, but Jensen bet that doing it wouldn't be something that Jared did. But Noleih, Jensen could picture him do it. He didn't know who to thank, which God or deity for the fact that it had been Jared who had found his mom and not any of Noleih's men. Or the loony Icy himself.

"And beside the, the uhh warmth, we get … you know …"

"No, I don't know."

"Memories, we get emotions. From the person. Blood is … it's very powerful, Jensen. It's really powerful, addicting."

Jensen dragged his hands down his face, hissing when his wounded finger came into contact with his cheek bone.

"Wait, wait, hold it, just … yesterday, when you, my arms, I, I bled. Did you …"

Jared nodded.

"What did you get from me?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"'m not lying. I swear, I got nothing. It was more of a connection than anything else. Jensen, you're one of us, you're not like other humans. You're not really a human at all, it's different with you. The crystals in you, they're screaming to connect with others, when I touched the one in your hand, Jensen … it was like being home again. Did you feel it?"

"No, I just felt pain and the shadows where there," he shrugged and threw a pebble into the distance, "man, this is … I don't know what this is. I mean first I find out about my parents, then about how I have crystals in me, and then that you all are some kinda blood junkies, feeding on people's feelings and warmth and it's just," he shook his head and threw another pebble down the slope, "… you know … a lot for a guy to take in."

"But you understand, don't you? Otherwise you'd be yelling at me. Again."

"Fuck me, but I do, yeah. Doesn't mean I'm not freaking out here, but … those shadows, they were … they took things from me. Yeah, not my blood exactly, but other things."

"You bled Jensen. When I pushed my finger in your arm, connecting our crystals, you bled. You bled on both of our crystals, the shadows … they took what they found in your blood. What you wanted to give them."

"Do we have anything stronger than water?"

"Want to get drunk?"

He leaned to the warm boulder and closed his eyes. No he didn't wanna get drunk, he wanted this nightmare to end.

"I just want the life I had before all of this." He murmured and opened his eyes to stare at the distance, up at the blue, cloudy sky and further away to the trees of the forest.

"I know. I never wanted you to know about the blood thing."

"I know, but … then that would just be another secret you had and …"

"If it makes you feel any better, that's the last secret I had."

"No, no it doesn't."

He didn't feel any anger anymore, any resentment, any desire to kill Jared right on the spot. He knew how now, it would be so easy, but he couldn't. If this had still been his old self, he'd probably be clawing at Jared's spine right about now, but he wasn't his old self anymore. He was more … composed, relaxed, thinking more clearly without the fog of anger/fear/loss clouding his mind.

He smirked: "Okay, so, you're not gonna start drinking my blood anytime soon, right? Like when I go to sleep?"

"No, that would be gross."

"T'yeah, well apparently you like human blood, so … what's not gross about that?"

"Well, you humans drink your own blood too."

"What? No we don't!"

"I've seen you do it, when you cut yourself you stick your finger into your mouth, or if you split your lip or bite your tongue."

"That's … pfft, that's different."

"How?"

"Well, that's my blood, I don't go out sticking other people's bleeding fingers into my mouth."

"Neither do I."

"Then what do you do?"

"If I, uh, if I touch someone who's bleeding, I, uh, then, you know, lick the blood off my fingers or, or hand."

"That's just sick."

"But I don't hurt them. I don't go and hurt people to get to the blood. Only if they're already bleeding."

"You really have no fucking clue just how gross that is, do you?"

Jared shrugged: "Your blood tastes different too."

"How," he cleared his throat, not really wanting to know this, but curious nonetheless, "does it taste?"

"It's … hot and cold, as if you poured cold water onto something warm."

"This is just … unbelievable."

"'m sorry."

"'s okay, it's probably not your fault anyways. It's just really disgusting and just please don't ever put my blood anywhere near your mouth ever again."

"Okay. I promise, but ..."

"You serious right now? There are no but's or and's or if's here, 'm serious here." Jensen shook his head. This was unbelievable, this was so out there, it was just … wow, psycho material.

"You know what, let's just move on. The sooner we get down to the woods, the sooner I can call Noah."

"His name is Noleih."

"Whatever and gimme an apple from the backpack. My teeth are as furry as a squirrel."

He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to think about it, just wanted to go on and hit the delete button in his head. Jared could have his blood addiction or what-the-fuck-ever but he didn't want any part in it. Ever.

"You're so gross, really …"

"Drop it."

"Dropped."

They mostly had to slide down the slope on their butts because the incline was so steep they couldn't risk any broken bones - Jensen couldn't risk any broken bones or broken crystals, because down there, down in the lovely, dark forest … a job was waiting for him. The one thing he wanted to do, if it cost him his life or not, he needed and wanted and had to do this.

And he was scared. He was petrified, but not for himself, not for his life. If this went south, there wouldn't probably be any more opportunities to take that mad man down. And Noleih was a mad man, madder than mad and if he had a craving for human blood, then … flashes of dead, dried up people appeared before Jensen's eyes. Dried up and brittle like dried leaves. Sucked of all blood.

"Jared, about the blood, Noah, I mean Noleih, he really …"

"You don't wanna know, Jensen."

"Fuck."

That was how nightmares were born.

They breached the forest line and walked further in, until the ground leveled up and they weren't on the mountain slope anymore but deep in the forest, hidden under a canopy of trees, one bigger and taller than the other. They had to use the dead kid's machete to cut their way into the forest; the bushes and ferns grew tall and thick where the forest line started.

"Okay," Jensen said and dropped down the quiver and the bow, "now let's call your brother."

"Don't you wanna sit down for a minute, have some water? Rest?"

"I'll rest when I'm dead. Uh, that came out wrong, just," he shook his head to clear his mind of what fucked up misfortune he just called upon himself, "come on. Let's call him."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

He was sure. There had been too much time gone and Jensen didn't want to wait another second. And waiting another second would make him start to get really scared and possibly even have a small panic attack and no. Just no. They had to do this, he had to do this now, right now. Right now when his eyes weren't shaking yet and his breathing was only labored because of the trek they just did.

"Okay."

"Right," he clasped his hands together, the sound of it making some birds chirp in the nearby trees, "so how do I do this? Yelling the asshole's name won't work so ... how?"

"The same way Ashil called for me."

"You mean …" he placed his hand over his right side, whining: "but man it just healed. Really? You serious? Man …"

Damn it, that ache had just healed and everything was feeling just fine down there and now this? He didn't want any more sharp things being stuck into him, no more prodding and poking and cutting into him. No more of that god-awful cold-hot pain.

"'m sorry."

And his uncle looked sorry, his whole face nothing but soft eyes and loose lips.

"Uhh, fine, okay …"

He looked left and right, looking for a decent place to lay down and not have stuff poking at him. He walked to a beech tree, its leaves shiny and green, letting through the yellow sunbeams to stretch along the ground.

"Hey, just," he stopped Jared with a hand over the man's chest, "don't, don't lick my blood after, okay. It's … 'm not okay with that."

Jared licked his lips and nodded. It would be hard, so damn hard to respect Jensen's wish, because he could already imagine all that warm, syrupy, red liquid run down the crystal, all that desire to connect with his nephew calling out for him.

"Okay."

"All right, just lie down," he didn't shrug off Jared's hand that helped him ease himself down on the leafy ground, "it'll be easier."

Jensen lay down on the leaves that were lying in small heaps all around the tree, looking like soft pillows just waiting for him to lay his heavy head on them. A sigh escaped him when his back hit the solid ground, his spine finally straightening after such a long time spend walking and sitting. It felt really good to be lying down, even if it wasn't for sleep. Even if it wasn't for rest.

Rest seemed such a long way from where he was right now. Maybe after all of this, all he'd have would be eternal rest. Heaven? Hell? Nothingness? The place with the shadows? Was that where his kind went? His kind? What kinda kind was he?

He had to ask his uncle, he had to know … he looked to his right and found his uncle sitting on his shins right there, right beside him.

"Jared…"

"Yeah?"

"Where," he licked his lips and rasped, "where do you, me, go when we die?"

"You're not gonna die."

"Just answer me."

The breath Jared released was loud: "I don't know Jensen, maybe … maybe we go back to where we came from."

"'m I … where will I go?"

He could feel a prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes, but blinked it all away. There was no time for that.

"Jensen, come on, don't…"

"Will I go … where you go? Or where humans go? Or nowhere?"

"Jensen, you won't die."

"But if I do?"

"I won't let you die."

"You can't say that."

"I can, I just did."

"Doesn't work like that, we both know it."

"Come on Jensen, don't … just lie down, okay and we'll talk about this when you'll be a hundred years old."

"Stubborn asshole."

"Takes one to know one, right?"

They both smiled at that and allowed the bird chirping to fill the comfortable silence.

"Yeah, it does."

"You couldn't let that one sit, huh?"

"Hell no."

"You still wanna do this now? You can get some sleep before…"

"No, come on, no, let's do this."

"Jensen, once we do this, there's no way back. Noleih will hear and …"

"I want to get this over with, but … do we need a plan for this? Plan of attack?"

"There's … Noleih is unpredictable, having a plan is …"

Oh, that wasn't good. It would be better to go into all of this with a plan of action, some sort of attack plan, or maybe at least some code words or something. But then again Noleih was crazy and crazy always worked around the rules.

"Oh, well then we'll swing it. 'm good at improvising."

He was. He was good and making stuff up on the spot and he had his bow, had his knife, had a brand new machete and had his crystals and had Jared and … and he'd do this. They'd do this.

He lay down and got himself comfortable, sneaking his head deeper into the pile of leaves not caring about snakes or ticks or other tiny little critters that could've made home in there. All that was on his mind was getting this done and then … and then he'd see.

He pushed his shirts up to his neck, giving Jared enough room to do what he had to do. There was a hot sliver of sun that ran across his stomach, all but burning him, the sun was so hot. A cool breeze hitting his exposed, sweaty skin made him shiver, goose bumps erupting all over his stomach and arms.

"This ain't gonna be fun, huh?"

"No."

"Yeah, I remember. Vividly."

He did, he remembered it as clear as if it happened just a few seconds ago; the pain, the feeling of hot-cold needles pushing their way inside of him. He shuddered and took a shaky breath.

"You know, Alineja and I, we were always fighting whether or not to remove your tracking device."

"You mean my appendix?"

"Yeah … but we decided that we wanted to know where you were, you know, in case something happened."

"Wait so all of this time, you knew where I was? Everyone knew where I was?"

"Not exactly. I knew you were alive, but there are so many humans in my head, so many signals, it's really hard to pinpoint only one. But I knew you were alive."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't and kinda wish you had."

"Yeah … I know. We, we would've asked you, when you'd become older, about what you wanted. Make it your decision, but things happened…"

"Yeah, things happened, well … can't do anything about that now, right?"

"No."

"Okay then, let's get this show on the road and do what we can do."

The sky above him was a good distraction from his uncle sitting by his side. There were white, puffy clouds rolling across it, sometimes hiding the sun, other times the sun penetrated right through them. Friday rains sometimes brought fog, sometimes clouds. This time it was clouds.

He panted and shivered, that tiny ray of sunlight across his belly making him itchy; the air was cool, the sun was hot and he was sweating buckets. It could all just be fear, but he'd rather blame it on the fact that it was a Saturday; the day after the rain.

"Hey, look at me."

He turned his head and looked at Jared who was leaning over him, hair in his eyes, hiding those brows made of cluster of crystals that the skin just couldn't really hide, although if Jared hadn't told him about it, he'd have never known. Never noticed.

"Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

"Okay, just ... just do it."

"Eyes on me."

Jensen didn't know if he could look away even if he wanted to, because where would he look? Jared was leaning so close over him, all he could see was the face that had been with him since he'd been a baby, then all through his childhood and now. Here. Right here.

He kept his eyes steady on Jared's and tried not to let his breathing pick up. That would make his whole body shake and move and he couldn't have that. One wrong move and Jared could nick something in there – in there – and he'd bleed to death, before this party could've even properly start.

He did flinch though when Jared's fingers grabbed at the waistband of his jeans and tugged then down, way below his hip bone.

"What you doing?"

"I need some room here …"

"Ashil didn't, he didn't need any room there."

"He was torturing you, he wasn't exactly looking out for your comfort."

He remembered how it felt and yeah, it wasn't comfortable at all, but then again when was torture comfortable. He could remember how he'd puked all over himself, bled all the way down to the cuffs of his pants, pissed himself and screamed himself hoarse.

"Can you hold them there?"

He could hold them now, but when Jared would … he wasn't sure he would be able to hold anything then. Wasn't sure if he'd even be conscious enough to do anything but breathe.

"Not when …"

"Okay, yeah, you think we can pull them down a bit, get them to your thighs?"

"Uhh, okay, but if your brother'll catch me with my pants down, I swear..."

"You'll kick his ass?"

"Damn right I will."

He felt stupid, really, really stupid. And way too exposed to everything what with his pants pulled down to just barely hide his junk, his shirts rucked up under his chin and his hands gripping them with all the strength he had in him. If he'd find holes in his shirts, he'd be very pissed.

The clouds in the sky were moving faster now than before, the wind picking up speed, but the sun was still very hot on his belly. He didn't dare look down and see … see his uncle's fingers turn into crystals and push inside of him. Didn't want to watch that happen, so he concentrated on the sky. On the trees around him. On the noises the wind was making, noises the animals were making.

He tried to close his eyes, but every time he did that, all he could see was Ashil, all he could feel was painpainpain, all he could smell was blood and his piss and feel the taste of vomit in his mouth. So he left them opened and stared up at the sky.

"You ready?"

He nodded to the silent question and gasped when something really pointy and sharp dug itself into his side, but not penetrating the skin yet. He flashed back again to when he was with Ashil and how he'd made it feel as if he was being ripped apart. Pierced with something as wide as a log, even if he knew now that it hadn't been like that.

"Easy, easy now, 's okay."

He started panting; drawing in huge gulps of air when a feeling of something needle like – really sharp and really thin – started pushing through the skin. He couldn't hold back the scream that was already bubbling up his throat, couldn't bite it and swallow it back down, so he screamed when it kept on pushing, kept on making its way through his insides to get to where it wanted. He grabbed Jared by the shirts, somewhere close to his neck, because he could feel Jared's collarbone brush against his bruised knuckles and pulled, all but draping Jared over his upper body.

It hurt, hurt so bad that after a while, he didn't even register the pain anymore; everything was just a hot-cold pressure all along his right side.

He hoped this worked. He really hoped this worked, because he really didn't want to go through this again. Ever.

He wished he couldn't feel anything, wished that Jared would've knocked him out, but he also knew that the pain would've just woken him up when it started. Totally unprepared and that would've been worse. At least being conscious gave him some possibility of fighting this, of screaming and breathing and not choking on his own puke.

He didn't wanna puke, but he was already feeling bile rising up his throat so he arched his back, pulling Jared closer, bumping his chest with his fist that was holding Jared's shirt, probably impaling himself further on the crystal. But he didn't care what this position was doing to Jared's finger, didn't care if this would break the crystal and leave it inside him. He didn't care, because he was screaming and puking; the water he'd drunk and the apple he'd eaten were both coming up as a team and erupting out of his mouth. If he weren't busy hurting and puking, he would maybe feel kinda bad about puking down Jared's shirt. Because no one deserved to be puked on.

"Jensen!"

He couldn't respond, not with words, so he groaned and coughed, letting spit, water and chunks of apple run freely down his chin and neck.

"Jensen …"

He coughed, trying to roll on his side, go to sleep and never wake up, but the hard, unyielding crystal in him, pinning him to the ground wasn't letting him do anything but lie there and take it. Could've been hours for all he knew, the tip of the crystal pressing down on the damn thing in his abdomen, before it started to slide out, out of the tissue, out of him.

He slumped to the ground when he felt it leave him with a squelching pop, Jared's shirt still firmly held in his fist.

"Hey, you okay? Jensen, you okay?"

Jared's palm gripping the side of his face, cupping his cheek, was warm and soft and smelled so much like Uncle Sammy, he choked out a sob and let more watery apple run out of his mouth.

This hurt him, this hurt him a lot. Doing this to Jensen, it hurt him so deep, so deep, burning his insides to ashes. But there was no other way. He tried to be careful, tried to do it slow and steady, touching just enough so that it would send a clear signal to Noleih that something was happening with Jensen, to give his brother a light to follow. He wished he didn't have to do what he just did, because watching Jensen try to stay still, hearing his screams and getting puked on wasn't his idea of fun.

His crystal was pulsing as if someone was squeezing it to the point of almost stopping it, but he knew all that would settle down as soon as he'd have proof that Jensen was okay.

He wiped the kid's blood off on the leaves and started to grow skin again, retreating the crystal back and wishing for the whole process to go faster because he needed to make sure Jensen was all right. Needed to take care of the kid he'd always taken care of.

It was like second nature to him, now, to take care of this kid. This man now, who he'd helped bring into this world. The kid he'd protected all of his life, the kid he'd hoped could be spared all of this.

But faith had other ideas. This was destiny and the bitch couldn't be pushed off the tracks. It had to be like this.

"Jensen, talk to me, you okay?"

The puke running down his chest was making him gag but that wasn't the worst part. He could take that, had taken that a lot of times when Jensen had been a kid with a bad stomach. No, what was horrible was Jensen's eyes that had gone glassy somewhere along the way, staring up at him but not really seeing. Maybe not even hearing him.

"Jensen! Wake up, wake up, hey look at me, come on, can you look at me? Say something!"

Maybe all of this was a too big of a shock for the kid's body, maybe this was that one step too far.

"Jensen, buddy, come on, blink. Please!"

He couldn't lose him, not now … not now, not after so many years going into nothingness, not now when they were so close to getting Noleih and then getting the humans to live a hopefully normal life.

He couldn't lose Jensen now, not now when they were beginning to be a family again.

"Jensen, look at me, come on, can you see me? Blink, come on."

He stared up at Jared's face, feeling completely numb. And hot. And cold.

"M-m-mmmojo…" he whispered and swallowed, wishing for water to rinse out the taste of stomach acid in his mouth. He nodded up at his uncle's face, seeing the worry there. Just this once. Just this one time.

"Just breathe, Jensen, okay, just breathe, 'm gonna take care of it. Okay, just relax."

"Fuckithurts…" he squeezed out, making three words into one and closed his eyes. A few deep breaths later and he was sinking into the calm that was rolling off of Jared's body like heat from asphalt.

"I know, just stay still and let things there knit themselves together, okay. Just breathe."

He opened his eyes with a gasp and stared up at the sky – at the part that he could actually see, what with Jared's head blocking the view. But when his uncle started to clean his sweaty and puke-full face with a wet cloth, he closed them again and let the shivers that were coursing through his body rock him to something resembling sleep. He was safe here and he needed rest and the calm coming from Jared was rocking him into sleepiness.

There was something tingling in his belly, he could feel it just like he could feel the cloth stroke his chin; felt as if he was being scratched by tiny claws, way down deep inside of his stomach. It didn't hurt though, so that was nice. Compared to what he went through a minute ago, this felt like a deep tissue massage.

"I know," he swallowed and breathed in, "what you're thinking," breathed out and sunk into the feeling of that deep tissue massage, "please don't."

"What? 'm not thinkin' anything."

"You are, Jared. Please just don't … I'll hunt you down and kill you myself, I swear to God I will."

It was so hard to talk, sleepiness pushing at him from all sides, pain disappearing under a cloak of calm, but he needed to say all this. Needed to, just like he needed to draw in his next breath.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"You wanna go. You wanna leave my, mm-my ass here and, and handle Noleih yourself."

"No."

"Can … feel it … just … don't. Don't make me kick your ass."

"It'd be easier. Noleih … he's …"

"Crazy?"

"He's a killer and I can't …" Jared bit his lip, "I can't risk you. I can't … he'll kill you."

"No. No, he won't. Not if I kill him first."

"He has no more mercy left in him, he's out for blood. Any blood. He'll kill you."

"I'd like to see … see him t-t-try."

"Jensen…"

"Sssshut it, just ssshut the hell up 'n cover me up, man. 'ssss cold."

He was trying to cover himself up with his hands, but it wasn't working; he needed his pants back up where they belonged and his shirts pulled down.

"You're not … hurt. Not really, your body's just in shock. 's just gonna bruise, but it'll heal. Like the last time."

"Good thing 'm not a hundred percent human, huh?"

"Yeah, good thing that, huh."

Jared patted his shoulder and squeezed it. It felt nice. To have someone that cared. Someone who was there. It'd been so long since anyone was just … there.

"How long for Noah to…"

Jared shrugged while pulling his shirts back down, covering him up and smoothing them across his stomach: "A second, a minute, an hour, a day, a week."

The pants came next: "Can you lift up a bit?" and when those got settled back at his waist he hissed when the fabric pressed at the sore, tender spot.

"'m I bleeding?"

He remembered the blood, remembered feeling lightheaded and as if he'd been strapped to a spinning wheel, remembered warm liquid spilling down from the wound, soaking his pants, spreading like wild fire all along the fabric. He remembered the smell; iron mixed with the sharp smell of his piss. He gagged; at least he wasn't tasting blood this time.

"Just a little, I was careful. You gonna puke again?"

"No…" he swallowed down and looked up at the sky.

This would take a while to mend, some time to heal. More than a minute that was for sure, but if Noah would come right now, he'd be up on his feet, pain or no pain, permanent damage or no. That bastard wouldn't get away just because Jensen was in a little – okay, a lot – of pain.

"I can't … can't do this again."

"You won't have to, trust me, Noleih heard just fine."

"I hope he cleaned his ears today."

Jared's smile was gentle: "Yeah, uh, why don't you just lie here for a second, 'm gonna go change my shirt."

"Uh, sorry."

"'s okay. 's not the first time you puked on me."

He chuckled: "One of those embarrassing stories?"

"Yeah…""

Jensen smiled and closed his eyes, letting his hands fall beside his body, palms and trembling fingers settling into the nest of soft leaves.

It was becoming easier and easier to give in to pain; he wasn't sure why he'd been resisting it for such a long time before.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 9**   


He'd slept under a bridge once. Just once and he'd never do that again; it had been cold, it had been windy and it had creeped him out to last a lifetime. The blanket he'd had with him had been moth-eaten and had smelled of mold, hanging on to life with only a handful of threads.

But it had been Alineja's. It had been her blanket, a brown-blue thing that she'd had since he could remember. It'd smelled of her, of all the soaps she'd used. He'd often curled up under it, his back to Alineja's chest and they'd read. Books, old newspapers, magazines, anything that had letters pushed into words made into sentences.

They'd read stories and poems out of books with brittle leaves, adds and obituaries and sports pages, articles about animals and plants and health issues … anything they could find, they'd read. And after they were done, his uncle would use the paper as kindling, keeping them warm and giving them hot meals.

The blanket had shielded him from many a thing but it hadn't been able to shield him from the wind blowing underneath that bridge. Hadn't been able to shield him from the cold and the loneliness that had been creeping up on him every time he'd shuddered.

The noise of footsteps up above, right above his head, had made him freeze in fear, his breath had gotten caught in his lungs and he'd hid under the blanket as much as he could, curled up making himself look as small as possible. Just a ball of fabric to anyone who would come down and looked under the bridge.

The footsteps had sounded loud, sure, like whoever had been making them knew what he had been doing and where he had been going.

"He said to wait here."

"I know, but what if he was wrong?"

"Odie's never wrong."

"There's no one here."

"Jared'll come, you'll see."

"I just wanna go back to sleep."

"I know, brother. Me too."

The words had been spoken softly, hushed, misery shining in them so brightly one would have to be deaf not to pick it up.

Icies; he'd been able to feel them. Them with their fucking calmness and softly spoken words and fuck them. Fuck them, fuck them.

He'd gripped the handle of his knife tighter and thrown the blanker off his cold body. Those bastards had killed Alineja. They'd killed her with a brutality that would forever be stuck behind his lids. Fuck them.

He'd gotten up from the hard concrete and crawled on his hands and knees through the bushes that had found home where water had gone away. He'd been as careful as he could, trying not to make anything break or rustle too loud.

Fuck them. Fuck them. Icies, sons of bitches.

He'd hid behind some tall grasses and fern, watching the two figures as they'd stood only a few feet away, at the beginning of the bridge. They'd seemed to be deeply in conversation about some guys named Odie and Jared – probably Icies too, so fuck em too.

The rage that had been starting to bubble in his veins had felt like the sweetest of drugs; felt as if he was high on something that had absolutely no right to feel this good.

The anger had blinded him, made his vision go blurry and crystal clear all at the same time and before he'd known it, the two Icies had been lying on the ground before his feet, their throats slit and green goo seeping out of the cut.

The rage had tampered down, cleared his vision and returned his heartbeat into something resembling normal and not wild in need of release.

He'd looked at his knife and the sticky green liquid that had slid in chunks down the blade and dripped to the ground.

He'd run as fast as he could, not really caring in which direction he had been going. He'd just had to run, pumping his legs as fast as they could go, ignoring the stitch in his side.

He had just killed two Icies. Two. Icies. Fuck.

When he'd stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the ground – hard – his only thought had been about the blanket he had left under the bridge, before his eyes closed to the sight of a blue sunset.

The light of the sunset was blue. Looked almost like water; washed colors tingeing the green forest with soft indigo hues. It looked peaceful. Felt peaceful. And if these were normal times, times before the Great Earthquake of 2014, people would've brought out their cameras and their phones and taken pictures of everything; would camp and make dinners, maybe even barbeque. Maybe they would go for a swim in the lake on the other side of the mountain, maybe they'd just sit down on this side of the mountain and enjoy the blueness.

Enjoy the quiet and the peace and the serenity of the light.

Jared's eyes looked dark blue in the light; like the sky sometimes did right before the Friday rains hit.

They were sitting by the beech tree, leaning on its trunk, bored and on edge. Jensen was picking apart a dried leaf, letting pieces of it fall to the ground between his legs. His side ached, but not as much as it had when Ashil'd had his hands _in_ him. Jared had been careful, had made it quick and easy and the tissue was already on its way to healing. It still throbbed and itched, but it wasn't making him wanna scream; just made him squirm a bit and hiss whenever he pulled a breath a bit wrong. He had slept for some time, or so Jared had said – but the setting sun was a good enough clue that it was true and he'd slept quite a while.

And no sign of Noleih. He was starting to feel anxious; if the man wouldn't come, if he hadn't heard the signal … Jensen wasn't sure he'd be able to do that again. Wasn't sure Noleih would fall for it again.

He might be part Icy but he still felt pain, he felt how his nerve endings flared to life whenever something happened that wasn't supposed to happen. Like getting impaled by a crystal.

Fuck.

He placed his hand by his hip, tenderly, not wanting to make pain reappear again but all he could feel was some warmth and see a little patch of blood that had spilled after he'd pulled down his shirts.

All in all … it was okay. Now if only that son of an Icy bitch would show so that they could get this show on the road and be done.

This waiting game was boring.

Bored. Bored. Bored. He could start a conversation with Jared, ask him some questions that were sitting inside his brain, needing answers, but Jared seemed…

"You 'kay?"

That was always a good question to start with; a neutral question both asking for how one felt and maybe pushing a conversation to start. Jensen liked those two words, even though usually he didn't give a damn about the answer.

"I … I'm just, you know, thinking about what will happen when … after, you know?"

Yeah, Jensen had suspected that was what was going on in Jared's head. It was what was going on in his head too.

"Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing."

They both looked at each other, Jared's eyes so dark, but not black. Just really, really blue with a dot of orange at their corners.

"We made all this happen, just out of fear, we made this beautiful planet," Jared swallowed, "we broke it. Broke everything and I'm not sure," he picked up a fistful of leaves and let them fly back to the ground, "'m not sure it will ever be okay again. Not even with us going back. I wish I had all the answers, I really do, but maybe now that we'll go away humans will maybe be able to move on. Rebuild the world, with the things that they have now."

Jensen nodded. They really couldn't know what would happen. Maybe the Earth would right itself again, maybe the humans would start to get along and cooperate, establish a life long lost again, build something even in this kind of an environment because … because they wouldn't have to be afraid of the Icies coming and killing them every second of every day.

But then again, how would the humans know that the Icies no longer posed a threat?

How would they know that it was okay to live, to go out of hiding, to go and build peace?

"You know, uh, after we do this, how … how are people gonna know that the Icies are gone?"

"Dunno. I just hope they will. I hope they'll see that no one's killing them anymore or enslaving them and … they'll just know."

Jensen nodded; that made sense. People would see - after some time - that there was no one there anymore killing them or oh God, enslaving them or sucking on their blood or whatever and come out of hiding. But that was a long time away from now, because right in this moment, nothing had been done yet to ensure of all that. The Icies were still out there, killing and twisting people's minds. In a way, Jensen really didn't want to know what would happen after; he suspected that after all of this, after Noleih would come to them, the whole thing would either result in Noleih's death or Jensen's and he was strangely okay with both.

He wasn't crazy about dying, just like he never had been, but he wasn't scared of death. Not anymore. He'd left that fear with the shadows.

"So you're gonna go back up there? To the north?"

"To the Arctic, yeah. Gonna go back to sleep. Back to dreaming. It's been enough. This, here. I'm tired and so are my brothers and sisters. I mean you saw Odie … and then we'll just hope that once we settle, all of this … will be okay again."

"And if it won't?"

Fireflies came early today … the sun was still setting and they were already shining their butts in the low grass.

He picked up another leaf to dissect; brittle and brown and didn't push his uncle for an answer. They both knew it, no need to say it out loud.

"You scared?"

He tore the leaf through the middle: "No."

"Me neither."

He let the halves of the leaf fall to the ground, looked at Jared and smirked: "I call bullshit."

Jared shrugged: "If Noleih won't want to talk, it's either I die, or Noleih dies or we all die. Death is a sure thing, no matter when it comes."

"Morbid."

"You brought it up first."

"It was in a time of my weakness."

Jared chuckled: "Not judging."

"You better not, 'cause you still owe me an answer."

"There's no answer, Jensen."

"Well, nothing here to do but wait, right?"

Jared nodded, that sympathetic little smile on his face and got up from the ground: "'m gonna go start a fire."

"Hey, Jared?"

His uncle turned around, his eyes shining so bright in the dusky light.

"I lied to Odie back there."

"Yeah."

"You think that Noah, I mean, Noleih could use that?"

"I don't know, but if he'll try, just know that … Jensen, you left Odie happy, okay? Think of that, all right?"

"Yeah, okay."

It wasn't okay, but it was as okay as it would ever get.

He picked up a handful of leaves, squeezed them in his fist and watched Jared walk towards a circle of stones where a mess of dried twigs and moss was already waiting to be lit.

No worries now that the fire would bring unwanted attention as it was attention that both of them wanted.

The fire was nice and warm, crackling. The stars were up, sparkling and bright, the moon huge and so close one could touch it with one's fingertip if one could stretch that far. It was bright, almost as bright as it had been at dusk and with the fire burning, it was as if it was early morning.

Jensen hated nights like these; too bright, too revealing with no dark corners to hide properly. But then again, the light could be in their advantage; it never hurt to see the person – the Icy – you'd kill.

"'m hungry…"

"We have …"

"You rang, my brother?"

The voice was like metal scraping against metal; a screech in Jensen's ear, a fly buzzing around his ear for him to smack at.

He was up on his feet right along with Jared, both of them as fast as their tired bodies allowed them, sending leaves flying everywhere. Jensen hissed as something in his side twisted wrong, but the hell he'd give in to the pain. Pain could go suck it and die, because there was Noleih, the fucking asshole standing right there, ripe for the killing.

The Icy was in front of them with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking completely nonchalant about the whole thing. The smile on his face made Jensen want to cut it off … really, really slowly.

"Noleih?"

"Hey brother, I heard ya call for me. Sorry I didn't come sooner, was just having a nice, warm meal with Odie. He says hello, hello, hello by the way. That man," Noleih shook his head and pursed his lips, "... such a bag of loose screws."

"Odie?" They said in unison, as if they'd been rehearsing it. Maybe they had, in their thoughts, the worry for the older Icy present ever since they turned their backs on him and walked away.

Jared took a step closer to his brother: "What did you do to him, Noleih?" while Jensen snarled: "If you fuckin' hurt him, I swear I'll make your death as painful as possible," his hand going to the knife he had strapped to his thigh.

Jensen squinted his eyes when he heard Noleih take a deep breath, like the bastard was preparing himself for a long speech about what-the-fuck-ever and looked at Jared when Noleih said: "Not the point, the point is ... you ready to come my way, little brother?" because that wasn't what he was expecting to come out of the Icy's mouth.

Jensen observed Jared and smirked at how his uncle didn't even flinch at the words but calmly said: "No, no. Noleih, this has got to stop."

"Ahhh, Jared, still so naïve. Still so … so righteous. Just like Father and well," Noleih shrugged, hands still in the pockets, "we all know what happened to him."

"It wasn't their fault. The human's." Jared took another step closer to his brother, only a few feet of space between them now. "Never meant to hurt us. They didn't even know we were here. Noleih, please … just come with us back to sleep."

"You've been spending too much time with Odie, the crazy has rubbed off on you. We can't go back now, they know we're here. They'll come for us and kill us."

"No," Jared made another step closer, "they won't."

"You're delusional, if you think that."

They were too close now, Jared and Noleih, either of them would do three, maybe four big strides and shit would go down. Jensen needed to do something, something to get Noleih's attention on him and away from Jared, so that … he didn't know what. Maybe so that Jared could do something, or that Noleih couldn't do a damn thing.

Think fast.

"Uh, pal I think being delusional is your department."

Shit like that always worked with the food traders down in the subway tunnels, so why not here too. Insults - at people or Icies - had the same effect on everyone - anger.

"Jensen, Jensen, Jensen, so good to see you again. How's your tracking device? Feel okay? Doesn't hurt too much, does it? You know," Jensen narrowed his eyes and gripped the handle of his knife tighter when Noleih took a step to the left and one step forward, "I told Ashil to just rip it out after the first time. I mean, Jared has good ears, he heard us. But Ashil disobeyed. Jared did me a favor killing him but well, rotten apples need not rot the rest of the bunch, right?"

Jensen rolled his eyes and shook his head: "Wow, talk about a bag of nuts, just wow."

Noleih smirked: "Still a smart mouth, I see? You didn't leave that with the shadows, didja?"

Jensen's fingers trembled on his knife, just for a second, because what, how, why, where, how!? How!?

He shrugged: "Dunno what you mean … "

"Really? You're gonna play that game, Jensen? I know my brother, I know what he did and Odie? Well, he just loves to talk."

"Yeah Odie really does love to talk, but man, I still have no clue what you're talking 'bout."

"Jensen, you're not stupid, please don't play stupid, because stupidity, well it makes you look stupid."

"Fine," he growled, "so what?"

Noleih stepped closer, only a step or two away from Jared who was watching his brother with a keen eye and a posture ready to snap into attack mode at any wrong move from Noleih and Jensen remembered that. Remembered how Jared had taught him how to fight, how to hold himself and how to get his body ready to leap into an attack with his hands and his legs or his head. He remembered how Jared had made him do push-ups and crunches and jumping jacks and lunges and rock climbing and something called a bicycle exercise. And running. A lot of running.

"'s a shame really, I was really looking forward to tapping into all that rage and fear, all that terror and loneliness that you felt every second of every day. That would've been so sweet," the Icy licked his lips, "to bend into what I wanted."

Jensen rolled his eyes and blew out a breath: "Well, sorry to disappoint. Really. So sorry."

"Oh Jensen," Noleih's voice was vibrating with suppressed anger, Jensen knew, because he often found his own voice sound just like that, "I wanna reach into your mouth and tear out your tongue."

"Ewww, really," Jensen smacked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, "naww, I like my tongue just where it is, but I wouldn't mind seeing yours on a stick roasted above the fire. But it would probably be too chewy for my taste."

Noleih smirked: "You're so much like your daddy. So much like Jared. They'd been best, best friends, you know? Well friends, not friends, as we're all family, but … brothers. And then I killed him. Oops, my bad."

Jensen took a breath and looked at the back of Jared's neck. He couldn't see Jared's eyes, because his uncle's back was on him and all the attention focused on Noleih, but well, shit. He couldn't ignore how stiff his uncle's back became at those words. Shit.

"Fuck you!"

"Jensen!"

His uncle's shout of his name, deep and booming, shaking his bones helped him to focus. His dad wasn't the topic here, this wasn't about his dad or his mom, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't kill Noleih for them too. And for Alineja. And for Jared. He'd rip Noleih apart if he'd need to, to get to the bitch's spine.

"I'll kill you Noleih," he snapped, "kill you nice and slow and love every second of ripping out your spine. I just hope you have it, because to me, you seem more like a spineless dick."

"You stupid human … I was here when all your seas were still boiling, when there was nothing here but gas and smoke and fire. This," the Icy spread his arms, "is all mine. Ours!"

Jensen saw Noleih's lips twist up into a snarl - he had serious anger management issues - and between one heart beat and the next, Noleih grabbed Jared by his throat, the other hand going to Jared's back and Jensen froze.

Fuck.

"Do you want me to rip his spine out? I will. I will, Jensen, I'll do it just like I did it to Alineja. You saw that didn't ya? Watched it happen, didn't ya? I felt you be there, felt your … your signal in my head while I ripped her crystal right out of her, broke it from the other crystals in her back and crunched it into small, tiny, tiny little pieces. Do you wanna watch that happen again?"

Jensen was frozen to the spot, frozen there by Noleih's words and eyes and the hand that the Icy had on Jared's back, pressing those human fingers right around Jared's spine. Maybe Noleih wouldn't be able to hurt Jared with his human fingers, but Jensen figured that the Icy was so experienced that he'd be able to turn them to crystals in the blink of an eye.

Shit.

He watched as Jared struggled, trying to kick and hit but not daring to do a hell of a lot; one wrong move and who knew what could happen. The choking noises his uncle was making as Noleih squeezed his neck made Jensen clench his jaw in silent rage.

"Alineja was screaming for you, you know? Did you hear? She was pleading for you, 'don't hurt Jensen, don't hurt him, please, please' … did you hear that, Jensen? She begged me to spare you, she begged me to let you live. Did you hear her last words? Hmmm?"

Jensen wanted to say a lot of things to that, a lot of things but only one came out: "No."

The word was barely heard over the gasping, wheezing, choking noises.

"I love you, Jensen. Those were her last words, bud. Didja hear 'em?"

Jensen didn't; all he'd heard were her screams and then gurgling as blood rushed into her mouth and she choked on it, while Noleih was holding her crystal – spine, heart – in his hand.

For a long, long time he hadn't even thought that it was something like a crystal in Noleih's hand … how could he have known? He'd never seen a person's spine before, it could've looked like that for all he knew. But now … now he knew. Knew it all, now. Knew that if Noleih would press those fingers of his into Jared's back, Jared would be dead in mere seconds. Knew that Alineja'd died protecting him. Knew that Jared had almost died protecting him too. Knew that Odie … Odie, was probably dead because he tried to protect him too. Knew that he couldn't let anything more happen to anyone because of him.

"No, of course you hadn't heard them, you were hiding. Running away, like the scared coward that you are. Underneath all that skin, you're just a scared, angry, abandoned little child, aren't you?"

Jensen's lip tried to quirk up into a smile, but he steeled himself and made it stay in a straight line. Noleih was wrong; he didn't feel angry anymore, he had left the anger in the darkness, with the shadows. He didn't feel sad anymore, because he had left that there too. He didn't feel afraid anymore because the darkness had smoothly taken that away too. And he absolutely, for sure, one hundred percent didn't feel abandoned anymore; he had found his family. He wasn't alone anymore.

All he felt was … calm.

"Well, Noleih," he licked his lips and tried not to cringe at Jared's whimper, "let me tell you something about humans that you might not know," he breathed out slowly when he heard Jared's legs shuffle on the ground, when Noleih pressed his fingers even deeper into Jared's spine, "family is important to us, you understand? And Alineja, Odie, Jared … they're my family. And apparently you're my family too, well half family, but … the only thing I feel towards you is pity."

"Pity?"

The confused expression on the man's face was just what Jensen needed. He gripped the handle of his knife and pulled it out of its sheath, throwing it at Noleih, praying that it would hit the Icy faster than the Icy could rip out Jared's spine. Because choking Jared wasn't a problem, but the spine thing? Yeah, huge problem.

The knife met its mark in the throat, right below his Adam's apple.

It looked obscene, the handle sticking out and the tip of the knife probably pointing out at the man's nape, but damn, it felt good.

Jared stumbled away from Noleih when he was released in an attempt to grab hold of the knife's handle and pull it out. There was disgusting green sludge running out from the wound, all the way down the knife and Noleih's hands and Jensen had had enough of this crap.

Enough of everything. He scrambled back to where he'd been sitting before the asshole had appeared, grabbed his bow and three arrows and shot them all directly into the Icy's chest. The _swoosh_ , _swoosh_ , _swoosh_ of the arrows flying through the air, was like a rush of sweetest, coolest water through his system.

It wasn't a kill shot, not with these assholes, but it would occupy Noleih enough for Jensen to deliver _the_ killer shot.

He ran to Noleih, his eyes on Jared, who was coughing and hunched forward only inches from his brother, still only inches from the danger of having his spine ripped out. But Jensen was faster and he grabbed Noleih's shoulder, spun him around and tried to push his fingers into the man's muscled back.

His fingertips met resistance, like trying to push 'em through a wooden plank; there was no fuckin' way for him to push his fingers into the man's back, through the jacket and the shirts and the skin and the muscles and bones and, just no way to get right to the spine. No way. They were too short, too blunt, too fat. He needed something sharper, longer.

Especially when Noleih was a wiggling, choking, gurgling, wheezing mess in his hands and this close to pulling the knife out of his neck.

"Jensen…"

Jared. He looked at his uncle, who was still struggling to get back on his two feet. His neck looked crushed, caved in and Jensen startled. Jared wasn't looking so good, not on his death bed yet but still looking like he was.

Much later, Jared would tell him that the sound that came out of Jensen's mouth was a roar he had ever only heard in lions. And Jensen would smile and blush just a little and say 'fuck it man, it got the job done'.

He looked down at his ring finger, the cut there just a red, jagged wound close to being healed and … fuck it. He put it in his mouth with no idea what the hell he was doing, he had no clue, but his eyes never strayed from Jared's as he bit down hard with his canines and started to pull off the skin with his teeth. He gagged at the sudden pain, at the sudden flow of blood into his mouth and gripped Noleih's shoulder tighter, both to keep himself steady and keep the son of a bitch from escaping.

Blood began flooding his mouth and he spat it out, along with pieces of skin and when he looked at his finger, he could see. Blue and green, sparkling, glowing, colors vibrating and shifting under the sharp, silver moonlight.

It was fascinating, mesmerizing, but he couldn't dwell on it too much. He had a job to do so he stuck his finger in his mouth again, pulling at the skin a few more times, spitting it all out to the ground.

It was making him gag and cry out each time he tore into the flesh and sinews, skinning himself down to the bones, but Jared was watching him. Changing colors in the light; brightblue-brightgreen-darkviolet-orange-specks of brightyellow. _Eyes on me, Jensen_.

He looked down at his hand, and wondered if there were crystals in any of his other fingers. He regretted never finding out for real, because damn that would've come in handy right about now.

But if he was already so far along in making himself bleed and throw up and hurt, eh, why not, right?

He bit into the pads of his pinky, biting right through the skin and peeling it off; he spat the skin out when he looked at the finger, not seeing any crystals.

Fuck, damn it hurt and he wasn't even questioning why he wasn't already unconscious on the floor. Must be adrenaline pumping through his veins, maybe it was Jared's mojo crawling through his veins, or maybe it was because his crystals were shouting at him to free them. Free them all.

"Fuuuuck, fuckfuckfuck…!"

Biting into his middle finger was easier, now that he knew what kinda pain to expect, but where there was no crystal there either, he sobbed. Maybe it was useless to do this, maybe he only had one crystal, just one finger.

One flaw that made him an abomination and wasn't that just fucking fantastic?

He sobbed again and bit into his index finger, his eyes glazing over from the pain, but he … he blinked and looked at Jared. Jared whose neck was already starting to un-cave, Jared who was starting to get back on his feet.

Uncle Sammy.

He looked down at his finger and … there it was … something green and blue: "Fucking fuck, shhhit, guuuh!" and he cried out from pure joy at seeing that damn blue shine up at him through all the red blood.

He was panting now, gasping for breath, his heartbeat throbbing in the tips of his ruined fingers, blood running down his hand and his chin. His teeth were dirty with chunks of flesh, covered with blood but he smiled nonetheless, because his two fingers were ready to kill.

But still, he couldn't do this anymore, two would have to be enough. One more and he'd really pass out, not even adrenaline flooding his veins would be able to keep him from that. The pain was burning him from the inside out, the stench of blood making sour bile raise up his throat and he spat it out; stomach acid and his blood and his flesh.

Then … then, help him God and all deities on this fucked up planet, but the crystals were starting to move, shift. Like a damn living thing, like a worm that wiggles from small to long, fat to thin.

"What the …"

The moving brought with it a new kind of pain; a sharper sting that he could feel tearing up into his forearm. He watched, fascinated as the crystals he had freed started to move forward, getting longer and longer. Changing from tiny little things into long sharp, thin blue-green spikes.

Fuck, he'd never … seen … and the moonlight was reflecting on 'em and it was … that was a part of him. All those swirls and sparkles of color, all that … and the stretching just wasn't stopping. The pain wasn't stopping and he was gonna die, but fuck him, if the son of a bitch wasn't gonna die first.

He looked at Jared, knowing he had awe in his eyes, knowing his mouth looked like a huge smudge of red, knowing his whole face was covered in tears and snot, but he had to look at his uncle. He had to let him know that this would be okay.

That he had this.

"Jensen …" his uncle whispered, stumbling to him, one arm outstretched, breathing starting to sound better and better with each stumble.

It was a moment, a short moment, suspended in time, where all went silent, all went away – a moment of when he couldn't feel a damn thing. Nothing. Just peace.

And then Noleih started to squirm in his grip again, knife halfway out of his neck by now and the moment was gone, pain coming back, crickets chirping, mosquitoes buzzing, the moon and the stars shining.

It all nearly made Jensen double over, head hitting knees, but he sucked in another lungful of air and grit his teeth. But it was too late, the knife finally slipped free, with a stomach-rolling squelch of green blood, and Jensen froze.

Fuck.

His ass hit the ground between one breath and the next, between the lightning bolts of pain shooting up from his fingers to his brain: "Fuuuuck! You son of a biiiiitch!"

Noleih's eyes were storm blue and black with a few sparkles of orange when the Icy turned around and grinned.

"Hurts don't it?"

The hole in the Icy's throat was opening and closing with each breath the asshole did and Jensen glared at him, gripping his hand and trying not to pass out screaming.

The crystals were still elongating and he didn't know when they would stop, he needed them to stop, they were already six of seven inches long, where was all this coming from?

"You're human Jensen," a wheezing gasp, "weak and pathetic," a wheezing gasp, "hiding behind what your daddy," a wheezing gasp, the hole in the throat opening like a second mouth, "gave you. You're so much like," a wheezing gasp, "your daddy was, a scared little weakling."

Jensen was starting to suspect that Noleih kind of got off on pain. His own or someone else's. Sick bastard.

He roared as he rolled onto his knees and then up to his feet, still holding his right hand by the wrist, the extra weight of the long fingers – even thin as they were - pulling his entire hand down. He wasn't used to this, his normal fingers were natural, gravity taking care of them, but this ... this felt as if he put on extra weight and his hand just didn't know what to do with it. It kept on trying to fall to the ground.

The pain was disappearing as the crystals stopped elongating, stopped growing, leaving him with a sting and an ache, blood running sluggishly down his entire hand, dripping off the sharp tip of his two crystals.

"You think you can kill me," a wheezing growl, "you half breed? You're just a human," a growl and a gasp, "you little mutt."

"I _am_ gonna kill you dead," he spat on the ground, wincing at the horrible taste in his mouth, "you hear me!"

His voice trembled, his whole body shuddering and he was so close to passing out, so close to giving up and giving in, but when he saw his uncle push the knife back into Noleih's throat shutting the Icy up, it made him smile through a grimace.

Fuck yeah, uncle!

But the smile was short lived; it got wiped off as soon as he saw Jared slump to the ground, an arrow sticking out between his ribs.

Not a kill shot, not gonna kill him. Focus.

Jensen looked back at Noleih, seeing how the Icy struggled with the knife again, but with only two arrows in his chest.

Fuck no.

This wasn't going to be the end of him, or his uncle.

He pressed his hand to his heaving chest, hoping gravity wouldn't try to pull the crystals to the ground again, stumbled closer to Noleih: "Fuck you Icy…" and he pushed his crystalled fingers into the Icy's back. They slid in like hot through cold, stopping when something slimy and thin rubbed against them.

He gripped it and yanked, not caring what the fuck he was holding, but it must've been the spine. It was pulsing, it felt alive even through the solid mass of his crystals, he could feel it pulsate, quiver, beat.

Swirls of colors started to wriggle before his eyes, lines and lines of flashing lights and among it all, were shadows with their giggles and whispers and touches that were not real.

When he tried to pull at the pulsating thing and it wouldn't budge, he groaned and huffed in frustration, because come on, you fucking shit.

Noleih had almost gotten the knife out again and Jensen knew that once that knife was out, Jensen was a dead man, his fingers in Noleih's back or not.

He pulled again and the shadows around him yelled in delight when something clinked, like two glasses touching in a toast.

The shadows were trying to crawl right inside of him, singing and whistling like wind around sharp corners. They were happy, they were trying to … hug him, but the swirls of colors started to wrap around him tighter, preventing the shadows to do anything but hover close by, poking him with their fingers.

There was no pain here.

He pulled out with a sharp cry, gripping a wiggly long blue-green crystal that solidified as soon as air had the chance to surround it completely.

It would be so beautiful if it hadn't been covered in green liquid and his own blood.

Green-red.

In the silver hues of the huge moon.

He released Noleih; the man falling to the ground like timber, a hole in his clothes and in his back, green yuck running out of all the holes, staining his dark yellow shirts.

"Jensen …"

He turned around, his bleary eyes searching his uncle who was a mere step from touching.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and held up the crystal with weary hands, his two fingers trying to bring his entire arm down.

He was so tired, feeling like he could sleep for a month, without ever waking up.

"Sss-sorry."

The essence of Jared's brother, his half-uncle was solid now, sparkling. Still.

"It's okay."

Jared's voice was raspy but getting to its normal soft tone, and his hand on Jensen's shoulder was warm and heavy, steading them both.

"I … I killed your brother." He rushed out, feeling dizzy and faint and the trees were coming closer and closer all but falling on him and then fading back away to where they came from.

He was rocking just a little on his feet, swaying back and forth and he was going to fall soon. Nose dive in all its glory, breaking it and adding more of his blood to his face.

The ground was swept away from him somewhere in mid-sway and he was preparing for a new burst of pain when arms wrapped themselves around him, bringing him down to the leaf-covered ground, nice and slow.

No broken noses today, apparently.

"Nolaih hasn't been my brother for a long, long time, Jensen."

The words were whispered into his ear, among all the crickets and a lonely elk's bark. He'd always hated hearing those, always weary then to walk around the woods.

"I'm still sorry."

Jared leaned him to his chest, one hand across his shoulder. He was lying between Jared's spread legs, his whole left side pressed tight to his uncle's body.

He remembered this; remembered sitting in Jared's lap like this whenever the wind howled too loudly outside, whenever thunder was the loudest and when the lightning illuminated the night as if it was day. He was too big now to actually sit in his uncle's lap, but leaning onto him was close enough. Brought the same kinda comfort, the same kinda safety as it had then.

Noleih was dead by their splayed feet but Jensen couldn't see him because Jared was holding his head turned away.

But that didn't change the fact that Noleih had been slayed. Defeated. Beaten and lost.

Jared nodded, his chin hitting the top of Jensen's head: "It's okay, Jensen."

"What ... what happens now?"

He wasn't feeling so good. The spots dancing before his eyes weren't … they were just spots, no stars there.

"Now, you'll give me your hand and you'll go to sleep."

Jared was gentle and steady when he picked up his bloody and damaged hand where Noleih's spine was still gripped tight between his crystals.

"You can let it go now, Jensen."

Jared's voice was soft, taming a scared, injured animal and Jensen whined. He didn't need to be coddled, didn't need to be approached as if he would come apart at the seams or go on a killing spree.

"Come on Jensen, just let me have it."

He watched, numb and in this really strange pain; he'd never felt pain like this before. It was … different. It felt different, and he couldn't move his fingers to make it easier for Jared to take away Noleih's spine. He watched Jared have to pry them apart and he couldn't even feel Jared's touch.

This … this wasn't good, he should've felt Jared touching him. Should've felt his fingers be moved.

His arms felt numb and numb was never a good sign. This pain spreading through his body wasn't a good sign either, because it was unusual, it was something he hadn't experienced before.

"Okay, now gimme your hands."

His hands were lying like dead weight in Jared's lap; Jensen could feel his uncle's junk underneath and he tried to move them away, because awkward. But he couldn't lift them up. They were just so heavy, as heavy as his eyes, as heavy as his mind and his legs and his whole body. As heavy as his heart.

His heart felt … stuttering. Beating slowing down … this was peculiar.

"Jared, what's," he gurgled as a river of blood spilled from his mouth, down his chin, down his neck, "J-j'red?"

That was odd, why was he choking on blood?

"Jensen, hey, hey, nononono, hey, hey, calm down."

"J'red… 'm dyin'? 'm I…?"

His uncle's hand gripped his with a bone crushing strength that made him look at their intertwined fingers and he saw something wooden … an arrow. In his chest? How weird. So maybe that was why he had trouble breathing? Moving? His chest hurt as if he'd been hit by a boulder.

"It's okay, Jensen. Shh, shhh, shh, I gotcha, all right?"

"Gonna t-t-t-tttell me wh-hh-here I go nnnow?"

Cold was settling over him like a blanket; a blanket that didn't smell of Alineja's soaps, wasn't moth eaten and frayed … it was just so cold that he couldn't stop the shivers. Couldn't stop his teeth from clattering together. Couldn't stop the shudders that just came and went as they pleased, leaving him gasping and pressing his cheek deeper onto his uncle's heaving chest.

"Shut up, Jensen."

"G-g-g-gonna?"

Whenever Jared said something, the words were a vibrating rumble in his chest and Jensen wanted to sink into it and never go away.

"'s a surprise, kiddo."

He shuddered again, coughing out more blood, wishing he could actually squeeze Jared's fingers that were squeezing his: "Nnnever any sss-sstraight an-ans-swers with you, ass-asshole."

"Where would be the fun in that, huh?"

"Uncle S-s-ssammy?"

He was scared, fear like ants crawling on his skin, his eyes growing tired, his mouth overflowing with blood, some of it making its way out of his nose, the taste and the smell making his stomach roll, but there was no point in doing anything about that anymore. He let his head roll down, chin touching his chest, but Jared picked it up, his big palm holding his right cheek.

But he couldn't … there was just no more strength left in him to hold his head up, to hold his body up.

He sunk into his uncle's chest, stupidly wanting to crawl inside and never come back out.

He was terrified. Death wasn't supposed to be like this; cold, numb and taking so long. Should be quick … shouldn't be torture like this, making him miss and want and need and not lose. He wanted to stay with his uncle, he just got him back, but now … he was going to lose him. Forever and he didn't even know where he was going.

He didn't want to be alone.

"Don't cry, come on I gotcha, don't cry, come on …"

He had no idea what his uncle was babbling about, he wasn't crying … he was drowning in his sweat and blood and the cold, the damn cold that not even Jared's body heat could stop. He wasn't crying.

"Don't cry, don't cry, I'm here, 'm here, it's gonna be okay ... I promise ... don't cry."

One of Jared's hands was stroking his hair, holding his whole right cheek and pressing him so tightly to Jared's chest, he was starting to suffocate.

He was losing his all; his life, his family, his uncle, his sight, his breath … he was never going to see anything ever again.

"Jensen?"

"Jensen!"

He drifted to sleep with the feeling of gentle pressure on his scalp and heat around his bleeding fingers; something soft and firm gliding over them, curling around their tips.

He sighed into Jared's shoulder; if that was Jared's tongue licking him, he'd have to kill the man a little bit later because he was busy dying right now.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 10**

When he'd come to this world, saw and experienced as much as he could before they'd had to reveal themselves to humans, he had read a poem. It was a well-known one, back then he guessed every person on the planet had heard of it and two lines stuck to him like flies to glue.

 _Some say the world will end in fire,_ _some say in ice._

He didn't know who wrote the poem, vaguely remembered that the poet's name had something to do with cold, but the words never left his thoughts. They were always there, always at the front or the back of his mind, always present day and night.

He couldn't say which group of people was right, the ones claiming fire would destroy the world or the ones saying ice would.

But he knew that for him, neither ice nor fire would destroy his world.

It would be both. Together; hand in hand, opposite poles. Fire that would melt the ice and ice that would put out the blazing fire.

Together.

Ice was his home, was his place of rest where he had spent billions of years. Sleeping. Dreaming. Walking the Earth in his dreams, listening and observing. The crystals in him looked like ice; the color, the thickness, the construction. But ice could do something he couldn't.

It melted. Melted under fire, melted under heat.

But he couldn't have imagined that he would be able to melt as well – just not in the way ice could.

Fire was sacred.

Especially now, when there was no electricity, no gas, no fuel, no oil, nothing that could be used instead of fire to chase away the shivers and the fear and the noises that came out at the dead of the night.

Fire was someone's soul too; bold, spunky, feisty, strong-spirited, gritty.

Fire had been what he had seen in Jamie so many years ago, fire had been what he had seen in Jensen as soon as he had touched the slimy little body, and fire had been what had melted his very core and taught him to care for someone so much it was bordering on pain. Physical pain that he couldn't shake off, no matter what.

He had cared about his brothers and sisters, cared about them so much his heart broke every time he felt a light go out in their eyes, loved them all so much, inherited that love from his Father and it just built up on top of the one he had already carried.

But Jensen. Jensen had been something else. Had been a destructing fire, eating up all that it touched, a tremendous force of flames that had made all things Jensen had touched go up in flames.

Even Jared.

When he'd first looked into Jensen's green, green eyes he knew he'd never be able to let him go.

He couldn't let Jensen go.

He couldn't let the fire go out inside of that stupid, stupid little shit.

Noleih had always been a sneaky bastard and Jared didn't know why he thought that it would be different when his big brother was a breath away from death. It hadn't been different, and when he'd seen Noleih slightly twist around and push the arrow into Jensen's chest – as easy as sliding a knife through butter – the agony of just the mere possibility that Jensen could die nearly brought him to his knees, shattering all that he _was_ into pieces.

It had been just like when he had watched his Father die. All that pain, all that panic of losing someone he'd cared so much about. He couldn't go through that again.

He couldn't've failed Jensen like that, couldn't've left his nephew to sink to the dirty ground as if he already belonged to the grave.

He could feel his crystals call out for the ones that were still exposed in Jensen's torn fingers, call out for all the other crystals that were still hiding inside the boy … could feel his own crystals demand he do something, set them free, set them all free.

So he did.

The crystals of his left hand were already starting to elongate and he sighed in relief – it really was hard to cramp them all up into a short, blunt stubs of fingers, even if his were still longer than normal.

The arrow was stuck somewhere in the lower parts of Jensen's chest but clearly between the ribs. Maybe it had struck a lung, he couldn't tell.

He couldn't tell anything but how the wooden shaft felt under his trembling fingers, the noise it made when he pulled it out and how blood gushed out of the wound.

He didn't care what this did to Jensen's insides because what more damage could he do when the person was already dead.

The arrow left a hole after it and when he finally managed to push all of Jensen's shirts up, exposing his rib cage, the hole winked at him; bloody and small. There was no time for hesitation, no time to think things through, Jensen had been dead for a minute already and there was just no more time to lose.

He pushed one of his fingers – didn't really care which one, could be his index one, or his pinky - straight into the hole, sinking it deeper into the still warm flesh. Nothing happened, but he knew that sometimes things just needed some time. But that didn't mean that he didn't hope so badly, wished, needed, prayed to his Father that whatever damage had been done to Jensen, the crystals in him would embrace his touch and start knitting the tissue and muscles together.

Noleih hadn't pierced Jensen's heart, hadn't even come close to it, but he did push the arrow deeply, probably nicking some organ but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't a doctor, he didn't know much about a human's anatomy, all he knew was that if he could make the crystals in Jensen connect with his own, everything would be fine.

In his mind, in his entire body he could hear and feel Jensen's crystals call out for him to save them, put them back together, touch them, heal them. That they'd help him, he just needed to touch them.

Jensen's hand looked mangled as if a rabid animal had savaged it … he flashed back to Jensen tearing skin and flesh away with his teeth as if in a trance, searching for crystals and then finding them. The relief on his nephew's face when he finally managed to uncover two crystals had taken Jared's breath away.

He thanked his Father and his Mother that he hadn't told Jensen about how one of his bones in his right forearm was a crystal too. He couldn't even imagine what Jensen would've done if he knew; probably tear his entire arm off. But Jared had known, known that the fingers had to be connected to something more, something bigger, 's why he had to push his own crystals into both Jensen's arms and hope that he'd hit something. And he had. Thank his Father, but he had. Maybe when Jensen would wake up, he'd explain all that; explain how the crystal made his right hand stronger, better, faster. 's why he could expand the bow with such ease, 's why he threw his knife so precisely, 's why he was able to push his fingers into Noleih's spine.

He grabbed for that hand now and let his fingers brush over Jensen's limp wrist where all the fine blue and green veins floated so close to the delicate skin. His eyes darted to the crystals, to the long, fine, beautiful blue-green crystals of Jensen's fingers. They were covered with blood, but they still sparkled so brightly. Swallowing, he brought the hand closer to his mouth and started licking the cooling blood off the smooth surface. Jensen's and Noleih's blood, tangled together in a burst of emotions that stuttered while going down his throat.

He started to weep at the loss of them both, at how he was taking love and life and hate and swallowing it all down, mixing it with his own.

The tears he shed were mixing with the blood on his tongue, but it was all right.

It was only blood - which they all shared.

His brothers and sisters came then - shy and confused - just as he licked the final drop off of Jensen's finger.

Jensen was his and his alone and Noleih had been his to bring down. No one would take that away from him.

The burst of possessiveness scared him; couldn't tell if it was his own or a part of what he got by tasting Noleih's blood. It would pass, whatever it was, it would pass. It always passed.

His eyes tracked the figures that were walking out of the woods as if they had all been hiding behind the trees all along. His finger was still stuck inside Jensen's chest, resting inside all the blood, all the gore, all that damage. He adjusted Jensen's cold, limp body, hoisted it higher to rest Jensen's back better over his thighs. Even if Jensen was dead, there was no need for him to be uncomfortable because once the stubborn bastard would wake, he'd bitch about an ache in his back.

"Jensen …" he whispered down at the still face, placing Jensen's right hand on the kid's unmoving belly and intertwining his fingers with Jensen's crystalic ones.

"Jared, our King." They all said, with their voices full of compassion and exhaustion.

"I can't leave him."

They nodded and sat down on the ground, watching him. Watching their nephew.

He looked down at Jensen again; mouth covered with blood – so close, just one lick, but if he'd do that, Jensen would have a bitch fit and how he longed to hear it. The pale, freckled face and the closed eyes that hid all that green, remained unresponsive.

They all sat there -with their brother dead and their nephew dead and their King barely living - for hours and hours. The sun had come up, and the sun went down and when the moon came up, not as bright as the night before, Jared felt it.

A spark licking his finger. A spark, tiny, tiny one, but a spark nonetheless.

A beat of a heart.

A shift in the tissue his crystal was hiding in.

A spark that became a flame.

Beat, beat, beat … slow and sluggish, but a beat of a heart.

It had stayed like that for some time, until the moon gave way to dawn – red and orange – and the flame enveloped his crystal and turned into the fire he'd always known Jensen had in him.

"Jensen …"

He whispered and kissed the top of Jensen's head, needing so badly to hear his nephew bitch about being too close, get off of me, stop looking at me like that, aww baby gonna cry.

He would give anything to hear Jensen's pissy self.

"Jensen …"

He stared to pull out the crystal, closing his eyes and groaning in how good it felt when all the other crystals in Jensen reached out to him in gratitude.

Jensen's body was weak; humans tended to be like that, but it was also strong, the crystals in him not wanting to die. Not wanting to let go.

"Jensen …"

It was squirrels for dinner. Again. Just like the last three evenings and he was getting nauseated just by watching Alineja strip them of fur and chop them up into pieces big enough for stew.

Ugh.

"Squiwels 'gain?"

"It's meat, sweetheart, don't fuss."

"Gonna add cawots?"

"No, I didn't have enough to trade for 'em."

"'kay."

He was sitting by the hot flames of the fire, his eyes going to his uncle who was doodling something on a piece of paper. Again. His uncle was always scribbling something or other on any leaf of paper he came across.

"What'a doin', uncle Sammy?"

"Just words, come 'ere, read them out loud."

He rolled his eyes almost to the point of hurting them and walked closer to where his uncle was sitting. He knew Uncle Sammy was just trying to get him to read – he still had some problems pronouncing certain words, certain letter combination still giving him headaches. He liked to read, he did, it was just that the feeling of not being able to do it properly made him shy; he wanted to do it right and no matter how many times his uncle told him that with practice he would get it right, he still felt self-conscious about it. What he hated most was when he blushed, because the word just wouldn't roll off his tongue right. That stupid 'r' was giving him problems and he hated it. Hated it when his tongue got tangled up when certain letters formed a weird sound.

He touched his uncle's knee and settled himself between the spread legs, sitting down on a little spot uncle Sammy made on the big wooden log. He still had to grab Sammy's legs to keep himself from sliding off to the ground.

The crackle of fire, his uncle's breathing and Alineja cooking were the sounds he loved. They were as familiar to him as his own heartbeat and he relaxed back onto his uncle's chest.

"You good squirt?"

"Yeah …"  
  
"Okay now, read me this."

A piece of paper, yellowish and wrinkled was pushed before his nose and he crossed his eyes.

"Too close uncle Sammy."

He felt his uncle's laugh more than he heard it: "Oh excuse me, mister, thought you were a bug there for a second."

"Not a bug."

"My mistake then. Here," the paper got moved a bit further away and now he could see words there. His uncle's handwriting was amazing, a hundred times better than his own, but he still had some time to learn how to write better.

"Umm the fiwst wowd is 'some'."

"Yeah, go on."

"Ummm," he touched the next word with his fingers, it wasn't a long one and he knew that one too, "say. It's 'say'."

"Good, go on."

"'the' an' then w- wo-," he fell silent, because the next letter always came out wrong whenever he said it.

"Jensen, it's 'r'. Come on, you can say it. I've heard you say it before, clear as a day."

He felt stupid. It was just one letter and he always said it wrong.

"'s okay Jensen. Just say 'world', you don't have to spell it, just say it."

"Wowllld."

The kiss on the top of his head didn't make him feel any better.

"Okay, go on."

"The next wowd is 'will' and then 'ennnd' then 'in'."

"Hard one again, huh?"

He nodded and stared at his uncle's thumb as it held the piece of paper.

"Fire, its fire Jensen."

"Fiwe."

"Yeah, munchkin, its fiwe."

And it was fire. It was fire in his veins, fire in his head, fire spreading through his entire body, making him wanna scream and hide and the flames in the fire pit were starting to rise up, spread towards him and before he knew it he was aflame.

"Uncle Sammy!"

He rolled to his side and coughed, for one tiny flicker of a moment thinking that he was a kid again. A kid who screamed for his uncle Sammy whenever he'd been in pain. He was tired of waking up like this; jolted into consciousness with a searing pain in his arms and a feeling of being in the past.

He was sick of it.

"Jensen?"

And he was sick of Jared's concerned voice and his gentle touches and the soft look in his eyes.

He was so sick of everything, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He hadn't been lying to Noleih, he wasn't speaking just to distract the man or because he loved the sound of his own voice – he kinda did – but he was telling the truth.

He'd loved Alineja, he'd loved crazy ol' Odie and he loved Jared and if Noleih would've taken Jared away from him too, he wouldn't tear off the pads of his finger to get to the crystals. He'd tear the Icy's spine out with his own human fingers, even if he'd broken every one of them.

"Oh God, oh God Uncle Sam it hurts, oh God it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts … fuuuuuuck!"

"Stay still, stay still, let me look, come on."

Jared's hands griping his biceps made him still and stay still when his arms were gripped and unwrapped from some cloth that had been around his fingers.

"It looks okay. Jensen, hey can you look at me?"

He blinked up and tried to turn his head away from Jared's palm that was holding the right side of his face. Only Alineja ever touched him like that … after she'd kissed him goodnight, she'd placed her hand on the side of his face making him lean into it and told him nighty night, don't let any bugs bite.

"Look at me," Jensen did, "'s it. Listen, I had to pull off the rest of the skin," Jensen mewled, the pain like a barb wire scraping at his fingers, "I had to, hey, shhh, shh, come on, you had worse, huh? You had worse, it's okay."

He leaned into Jared's palm; it smelled of blood and smoke and salt.

"It'll stop hurting, it will, trust me. You just have to hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I'm so tired."

"Just go back to sleep."

"Okay."

He couldn't argue, not anymore. He felt drained, he was weak, he was scared of feeling all this pain, of feeling like maybe killing Noleih hadn't been enough. He trusted Jared to keep him safe, to watch both of their backs, to protect Jensen if anything would happen while he slept and he trusted Jared that if anything should happen, Jared wouldn't wake Jensen up and make him see it or live through it. He'd left fear of dying in the darkness and it was all right.

He gasped when he opened his eyes, the sound of water and birds invading his ears.

"Hey, you awake?"

Jensen licked his dry lips: "Yeah," and coughed, trying to moisten his mouth. He was thirsty like the desert.

"Water."

"Here, I gotcha, just drink. Small sips, okay."

The water tasted cold and fresh and he moaned when it ran down his parched throat. Moaned even louder when it cleaned up the taste of iron and rot out of his mouth.

"Tastes good."

"We have more, just give it a minute, all right?"

"Yeah …"

He stared up at the sky, white clouds over a blue canvas. Midday then. He lay on his back, trying not to move too much, trying not to move at all, because his side still hurt, and his fingers still felt as if they'd been skinned – which they had been, duh. He could feel his heartbeat in the tips of them, knowing that two of those were crystals now. Wrapped in some white cloths, sure, but still … crystals. And they would remain crystals until Jared would teach him how to grow skin like every Icy had.

He was part Icy, and part human. He was half-half, a creature of the in between and he didn't know where he belonged.

Where did one belong when he was neither one nor the other? When one was stuck between being something and other, yet neither was where one felt one belonged?

"Jensen, you okay?"

"Yeah, 'm okay," he mumbled and tried to raise his right hand from where it was lying across his belly, "so, crystals, huh?"

"Yeah, crystals."

"You think there are any more?"

"In you? Yeah, yeah there are, but I don't really wanna skin you to find out."

"Yeah, that would be gross. And probably painful."

"Yeah."

It was awkward. The whole conversation was awkward and stilted and Jensen wondered when he and Jared fell so out of step.

"'m sorry I killed your brother."

Maybe that had been the moment they fell out of step; Jensen killing his half-uncle, Jared's brother. Maybe that was the point at which making conversation with Jared became like pulling teeth.

"I already told you that it's okay. It had to happen. Noleih would've just kept on going, he was … he was beyond reason."

"I felt him poking around my head, you know? Felt … something in my head."

Jared nodded: "He was looking for something to get you on his side. Anger, fear, sadness, something that he could've used to you know, twist you around."

"Yeah well, I left it all with the shadows. Everything, Jared. And it feels so good."

"I know it does. The darkness … it kept all of us safe for so long and I promise you, it'll keep everything you gave it safe, too. The shadows won't ever tell."

Jensen never took his eyes from the sky, feeling that if he did so, the look in Jared's eyes would be pity and sorrow and he didn't want that.

"Jared?"

"Mhm…"

"What happened?"

Because something had to have happened … if him killing Noleih wasn't why Jared felt so wrong, then something else must've happened. He remembered holding Noleih's spine in his hands, remembered falling down to the ground, remembered this new, strange, very strange pain and spots that weren't stars …

"Jared, did I," he gulped, "die?"

"Yeah, yeah you did."

"Wow."

Jared snorted: "That all you've got?"

"I died."

"For a while, yeah."

"Like for real died?"

"For real."

"I don't remember … I just remember you making me read."

"Read?"

"Those words you were always scribbling on papers … something about fire and ice and hey, I can say world now and not mess up the 'r'."

He grinned and wondered if there was still blood stuck between his teeth.

"I think you should go back to sleep, kiddo."

"I think so too."

He didn't need to be told more than twice, because his head was feeling heavy and stuffed to the point of exploding and his chest hurt. Bad.

But then again, he had just came back from the dead, no wonder he felt a bit … drunk, groggy and on a verge of a mental breakdown.

Thank God that falling into unconsciousness took care of all that in a span of a second.

There was no fire this time. There was just a sigh that he released when he opened his eyes, sleep crusted in their corners and the ache in his right side dulled down to almost nothing.

He whispered up at the sky, knowing that Jared was nearby and would hear him: "'m so tired…"

He almost smirked when: "'s okay, you can go back to sleep." was whispered back at him.

"No, no, I don't mean … I mean I'm tired of all of this, Jared."

After some shuffling and rustling of clothes he felt Jared take a sit by his side and sensed his uncle lean forward: "What do you mean?"

"I don't want this anymore. I don't want this … here."

"What do you want then?"

"I want you not to leave me again. I want my mom back, I want Alineja back, I want Odie back … I … I don't wanna be alone again. Please don't leave me alone again."

"Do you want to … do you want to leave anything in the darkness again? I might be able to do that by myself, but I'd rather call one of my siblings to help …"

Jensen closed his eyes; he would love to leave how it felt like to rip his own skin off his fingers with his teeth, he would love to leave how it felt like to push his fingers into Noleih's back and squeeze the man's spine, he would love to leave the memories of how much it had scared him to see Jared be so close to death. He would love to leave the memory of himself dying.

He would love to leave all of that in the darkness, ask Jared to please yes, let's do that, but he wanted to feel it all because that was human, right? It was human to feel this horrible after killing someone. After taking a life, no matter how dark it had been, right?

He was human, right?

"Jensen?"

He looked into Jared's eyes, the color in them flowing from green to brown to blue to orange to yellow.

He was an Icy too, a part of him lost a member of his family too. A part of him could settle down, calm down and forget about what he'd done.

A part of him, had family now. A part of him didn't have to be alone anymore.

"I don't want to be alone again. Please," he whispered, "please …"

There was something salty invading his mouth and when he closed his lips and swallowed it hit him … he was crying: "Shit…" he raised his good hand and started wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

A hand gripped his forearm and tugged, bringing his arm back down to the ground.

"I won't leave you alone. I swear I won't leave you alone again, but … I have to lead my family back to sleep. I have to go back with them, I have to go to sleep with them."

Jensen knew that. He knew and he understood and he …

"But I'm your family too, right? Your half-nephew? Your nephew? What am I to you?"

"You're family. You're my brother's child, you're ours. And we gotcha now."

He was someone's. He belonged somewhere. And it wasn't here. It wasn't the human race. He understood that now. He understood why he'd always wanted to be left alone. Why he had always felt as if he didn't belong.

"So," he sniffled, "so you can … take me with?"

"You sure you want that?"

"I … I don't know. I just … I can't be alone anymore. I can't. I swear I'll put my knife to my throat. I can't … after all of this …"

"Okay, all right. Okay. You'll come with."

"I wanna meet everyone. Wanna see to whom I belong."

He'd been alone for so long, for so many years no one else but him watching his six and twelve, that it would be nice to sink into a feeling of someone else watching over him. These past days with Jared and Odie … had taught him that he could trust others, he could trust family. He just didn't know how he would really feel coming from just him and him alone to having thousands of half-aunts and half-uncles, because he was still half human and he would always be half human.  
  
"Whom? Wow, you using grammar now, squirt?"  
  
"Don't call me that, 'm not four."  
  
"No, no you're not."  
  
The sad tone of Jared's voice made a lump form in his throat that the swallowed down. There was no need for all that, no need for the past to come and take him away. He had the present and he had the future and it was okay.

"Hey, Jared?"

"Yeah?"

"What, uh, I mean, you say you're going to sleep, so … is that, you know? It? Just sleep?"

"It's not sleep. It's dreaming. We dream of … everything. And as long as the humans will have their tracking devices, we can see through them. See the world, be in the world, but not really, you know? Like," he smiled, "like ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"Ghosts. We're here, but we're not. We see, we hear, but we're up there under the ice and dreaming. We're all together and we're all apart and we sleep and we dream."

"Will I dream too, or will I just … plunk to the bottom of the ocean and die?"

"You'll dream. I … I promised Odie … I told him that when we'll go back to sleep he'll, he'll sleep next to me and well, that leaves the other side open," Jared raised his left hand, "but now that," he cleared his throat, "he's gone …"

"So, he's dead?"

Jared shrugged: "I can't feel him. I don't know."

"Should we go check?"

"Jensen, we're days away from Odie."

"What?"

He rose up before Jared could stop him and saw that he was certainly not in a forest anymore.

"Fuckin' … what the …"

Seagulls. There were seagulls ripping a fish apart a few yards away and fuckin hell there was the sound of the ocean's waves hitting a shore and foaming up. He thought he was listening to forest birds and a river flow, but …

"What the…"

He forgot about the fire in his veins, the pain in his fingers and didn't even want to look at how his fingers were crystals now, because holy shit, they were at a … beach.

"Jared?"

"You were out for days, Jensen."

"Fuck, you idiot! People here are crazy, they protect the seashores like maniacs. I don't wanna get harpooned."

Jared started to laugh and Jensen really couldn't see the funny in all of this.

"So, you've met Archie?"

"Who?"

"He told me he ran into you. Told you to get lost and gave you a fish for goodbye. He," Jared laughed to the point of wheezing, "he said that he had to drag your sorry drunk ass all the way to the desert and he hoped that the smell of the fish would be enough for you to puke all the booze out."

"What?"

"Archie … he's … he was protecting the western shoreline, notifying me if any of Noleih's, ummm, supporters wanted to sneak up to the Arctic through the west."

"Fuckin' … he hit me!"

Jared lost it and the laugh was contagious, because Jensen could feel his lips starting to join.

"He said you were so drunk you got caught in the fishing net and, and he said it was like watching a ballerina fight with a net."

"What's a ballerina?"

"Uhhh, never mind."

"He was crazy."

"Jensen, he was trying to protect you. Being at the shorelines is dangerous. Was dangerous. If he hadn't caught you, and one of Noleih's had …"

Jensen smirked: "Well he had a really funny way of showing he cared."

"Awwww, don't be mad. He did give you a fish."

"Yeah, when I woke up it was sitting on my chest looking at me with its dead, beady eyes and the smell … the smell made me puke for days afterwards."

"Well," Jared shrugged, "at least you puked all the alcohol out of ya."

"Not funny." He grumbled.

"Ooooh but it is."

Jensen smiled and couldn't turn away from the picture of Jared laughing; he remembered when Alineja would say something funny and he and Jared would laugh until the point of tears making Alineja get this soft expression on her face.

Love.

It had always been love.

"I did eat the fish though, was tasty. Baked."

"Well then … should say thank you to Archie when you see 'im."

Oh God, Archie was his half-uncle. His brain would fry before he would be able to comprehend any of this and be okay with it.

"So what? Did you carry me? How did we get here? Where are we? What're we doing here?"

"Whoa, easy slow down."

"Just answer me."

"Jensen, come on and sit down. Come on, trust me, we're safe here."

He nodded; he trusted Jared. Trusted him with his life, he had killed for the man and Jared had almost died protecting him when he'd lured Noleih to that island so many years ago.

"I trust you, but start answering. I mean I die and come back, which by the way you still need to tell me that story, and nothing has changed. I give up."

"You die and come back and you're still a demanding little bitch."

"That's no way to talk to your nephew."

"Who you gonna rattle me out to?"

"Umm, like a hundred other half-uncles and aunts. I bet my aunts will love me and try to protect me from you."

They burst into laughter then, the seagulls or whatever the birds were, making awful noises and everything smelled of dead fish and salty water.

"No, I didn't carry you, well, not all the way, my brothers helped. And we're somewhere in Vermont. I wanted to get you as far away from where we were and as close to the Arctic as I dared. I figured if you wanted to come with me, you'd come and if you wanted to stay, well we're still on the continent where you were born and raised and you can always walk to wherever you want."

"Yeah, good thinking."

He looked left and right, but all he could see were trees and the sea.

"Where is everyone?"

"Some had taken the ones who were on Noleih's side to the Arctic already, but some …" Jared pointed into the sea, into the sparkling blue water that was interrupted by waves and heads bobbing out of the surface, "they're waiting for us."

He looked straight at hundreds and hundreds of bobbing heads far in the distance, over the point where waves started to break at the shore and saw … his family.

"I can … feel them … in my head … it's … I've never … it's like ringing, but soft."

Jared grinned: "So you ready to go?"

Jensen looked at the sea, looked at everyone who was there waiting for their King and him and then he turned around to look at the forest that was hiding ruined cities and lives on the mend.

He didn't belong there.

He nodded: "'m ready."

"You'll have to leave your knife. I already," Jared looked down at his feet, "buried," and then looked back at Jensen, "your bow and arrows, but I couldn't unstrap your knife holster. You were lying on it, so…"

Jared had given his bow and arrows a … what? A funeral?

"You buried my bow and quiver?"

"Uh," Jared rubbed the back of his neck, "yeah?"

"Thanks, that was … yeah, thanks."

His bow and his arrows; he had trained so hard with those, he had made them with his own two bare hands, he had practiced days and nights to properly shoot an arrow and hit it dead center of any target … his bow and quiver who had saved his life on so many occasions, in so many ways … were now buried somewhere on the beach, somewhere under the sand.

He unstrapped his holster and threw it and the knife aside.

He wouldn't need it anymore, because he would be with his family and they would have his back.

"You all right?"

"'m good. I really am."

Jared smiled: "Come on, let's get into the water. It'll be easier."

They stepped into the water and waddled deeper in, further from the shore, until the waves were all the way up to Jensen's neck, some water already spilling into his mouth.

"Okay, come here, turn to the sea, good, you can lean back."

"Uhh, okay."

He turned around and stood right in front of his uncle, nervously shifting on his feet trying to fold into himself because his right side was throbbing and his fingers were starting to bleed again, he could see the blood rise up through the water in a swirl.

"Wanna play connect the dots?"

"'m kinda freezing here, kinda ya know, on my way to drowning and no, I don't wanna play connect the dots."

The water was cold and he was barely able to stand on the sand beneath his shoes, the waves hitting him and pressing him deeper into Jared's chest.

"Well, connect the dots says this; I saved you once from drowning by pushing my crystals into your lungs, I saved you again by putting my crystal in you, I've heard the crystals in you call out for me, trying so hard to connect and I did. Through your blood and by touching them. 'm pretty sure at least five of your ribs are made of crystals and … uh, a bone in your right forearm, dunno which one."

"Uhh…"

"So, connect the dots says that the crystals in your won't let you die so easily. They'll play along with what I do. They'll want to, because in the end, Jensen, we're all _one_."

"'kay."

He didn't want to talk too much, the salty water really was spilling into his mouth whenever a wave high enough hit him, but he understood. Had felt it; how the crystals engulfed him with flames, bringing him back.

"Don't panic alright, Jensen. Just trust me."

"I trust you."

He breathed in the smell of salt and drying sea grass, listened to the sound of the seagulls and the comforting ringing in his head, his family calling for him.

He felt Jared's hands go around his ribcage from behind, broad palms all but crushing him and when something penetrated his chest and went all the way into his lungs all he could think about was …

… it doesn't hurt at all when air tastes of darkness.

"Just breathe, don't try not to and don't panic."

"You can open your eyes, you know?"

The words weren't said to him in a voice he could hear with his ears, no, they were spoken in his mind, inside of him somewhere where his dad's genes poked a hole at and made him hear and listen to his kin, without hearing or talking.

He didn't want to open his eyes because he knew what he'd see. He'd see the depths of the ocean, he'd see fish and whales and maybe a dolphin or two. He'd see water, because water was all around him. He'd see the ocean's floor, all dark and deep, maybe he'd see a crab or two or three, but all he'd really see would be the water.

Jared was behind him, which was a comforting thought, because Jared had his back and always had and always would have. Jared was swimming, pushing them both forward through the cool water that sometimes got interlaced with warmth and when that happened, he could feel everyone just let go, let the current take them all where it wanted.

As a human he was terrified out of his mind and had pissed himself as soon as Jared manhandled him under the surface and they dived, but as an Icy this was like being home. Safe.

"No."

Jared's laugh at him made him smile too and he opened his mouth without meaning too. It was a human reaction, simple, something he did all the time, but right then, he could feel cool, salty water spill down his throat and into his stomach and lungs when he breathed in.

"'s okay, you can breathe in the water, you've been doing it all along. I gotcha."

He was. It was instinct. He had tried to stop himself from breathing, but he couldn't do it, because every time Jared felt that his lungs weren't expanding he pushed his fingers deeper, making Jensen gasp for breath.

They were probably still miles away from the Arctic, and he was already abusing the word 'asshole'.

Then the voices started. First it had been a woman's voice telling him that she was glad Jared had finally found him after searching him for so long.

Then a male voice said how good it was to see the child of Looky and how his dad had been a good, good man and how he could just tell that Jensen was a good, good man too.

Then others joined in, asking him questions and telling him things, telling him how happy they were that he was with them, how happy they were that now they were all going to go back to sleep, how years upon years of fighting have left them weak and sad and tired and all the while Jared's chest was a welcoming, soothing weight on top of his back, pushing them both to their destination.

Home.

To home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is of course Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.


	12. Chapter 12

**EPILOGUE**

They both stood on a block of ice that was covered with grainy, white snow and silently looked into the far distance at a small block of ice that was swimming freely a bit further from the shore. It was occupied by a polar bear. Jensen wow-ed internally when the animal yawned, stretching its huge jaws and showing teeth that just a few seconds ago had been munching on a seal. The bear's muzzle was covered with blood, all that yellowish whiteness stained red, and Jensen couldn't tear his eyes away. Here they all were, him and the Ice People and a polar bear going about his business – which was lunch and sleep apparently – as if he was the only one on the planet.

For a split second, he thought how nice of the rogue section of the Ice People that they hadn't killed any creatures that had lived so close to where they'd all risen. Even if they'd screwed up the rest of the planet and its life and habitats, they'd left both poles alone.

How nice.

He wanted to stay just like that; watching the bear lick himself clean of the seal's blood, but splashes in the water made him turn around. They were loud and broke the serenity of the scene … they brought back the reason why he was here. Why all of them where here.

He saw Jared's people - brothers and sisters - his half-uncles and half-aunts, jump off the ice block, jump into the sea and disappear into its dark depths.

"So ..."

He was nervous. He was terrified, his heart beating so fast he thought it would explode inside of him, his breathing picking up into shallow pants but he would do this.

There was nothing - in the cities or in the mountains - for him to live for. Nothing to go to, no one to go to. Just him.

Always just him.

But here, here he had everything. He had his uncle, he had his family, he had a chance to not be alone anymore. He had the feeling of love and security back, the one he had lost when Alineja had died. He'd forgotten there for a few years how all that felt like, but now … here … he felt it again.

And seeing his family like this … he'd never seen anything like it. The Ice People had showed themselves in their true form only once, but he hadn't been born yet back then – he'd come into the world four years later – and Jared had never changed while they were traveling together so he could only imagine. If Jared looked like _that_ in his human form, just how magnificent he looked like in his true form?

Because the Ice People were breathtaking. Simply breathtaking.

And it was surprisingly shocking to see all those people; so many of them, some that he had talked to on their way here, some that had asked him questions about this and that, some that Jared had introduced to him and said 'brother' or 'sister' and then their name, but there were so many – hundreds and hundreds of them, that he simply forgot their name …

… shed their skin, just like that. Like a snake sheds its skin and leaves it there on the ground like garbage, these People left their skin to fall to the snow covered ground where it dissolved into the snow.

He … he wasn't sure anymore what was more spectacular; the skin melting away and turning into snowflakes, or how the Icies weren't bloody and 'meaty' underneath but started growing crystals before the skin was even completely off them. The crystals, as they were either growing or shortening, weren't making any noise; no clinking, no breaking noises, nothing. It was all so quiet, only the beat of his heart in his ear and the splashes of water.

He knew his eyes were probably the size of a manhole cover, but he couldn't stop staring.

It was a jaw dropping scene.

It was crazy, it was weird it was ... magical. If he had thought his uncle changing the color of his eyes was magical when he'd been a kid then this … this was … indescribable.

He could see how some crystals were rough; especially the ones on the arms, while some – in particular their abdomens and backs - were smooth as silk. He … he wanted to touch. To run his palm down that polished crystal and feel it. How would it be? Would it be really solid or could he press on it and it would give way? Could he maybe see their spine crystal beating? Would the crystals be hot or cold? He had touched his own crystals – through the wrapping, because he was too chicken-shit to actually look at them - but they'd just felt solid and nothing special. But he was only a half-breed, a mutt, an abomination that didn't fully belong to either side, so ... maybe even his crystals were different. Stuck in a place in between.

He squeezed his fingers into a fist, poking his arm with the tips of the crystals. He should be careful with that, he could poke an eye out.

But no touching didn't mean no looking.

Because he had to look, it was too mesmerizing not to look and the more he looked the more he saw how the People's shoulder bones were clusters of pointy crystals, their collar bones were a line of individual crystal points but their forearms were smooth again and their fingers were long and pointy. Their heads were round like balls but he couldn't see their brains –didn't know why that fact even occurred to him.

Their eyes, though, their eyes were the color of fresh water, straight from the mountains.

Aquamarine. That was the word. He had read about gemstones in an old, really old magazine he had found lying around in a house he'd once squatted in – weird house that was, they had some really quirky things in there – and the color of it, and the name got stuck in his brain.

Aqua. Water. No one could forget that word.

The crystals were bright blue, some even neon blue, with green lines covering some parts. Like veins. They had actual veins with green blood. He bet no human knew about that little fact. He had seen Jared bleed, had made him bleed himself but actually seeing all the blood run through the crystals … it was surreal. Like a stream, a river rushing in a waterway.

He looked at Jared who was standing by his left side. He was watching his siblings with a small smile on his face, lips stretching up and forming a half-dimple on his right cheek. It was love. Jared loved his sisters and brothers, just as much as Jensen loved … his weapons.

But not anymore. The fight for survival was over, the days when his bow and knife were his only friends were over and over were the days of solitude. He'd never be alone again. He would finally belong somewhere again. To someone. He'd been born a human and the very first person that touched him through the blood and the gunk was an Icy.

Uncle Sammy.

Jared.

He never belonged to the humans in the first place. From the very start.

He looked back at the Icies, his kin now, and noticed how they all shone in the sunlight. He had to squint his eyes from time to time when the bright sun hit the crystals at a particular angle and made them gleam.

Some of the Ice People were so glossy, he could actually see the reflection of his stunned face – huge eyes and open mouth - looking back at him. Their bodies were like mirrors, it was incredible.

Looking down at his hands that were still wrapped up - even though the cloth was completely wet and all but half frozen now - he started to unwrap them.

He wanted to see now. See his fingers, skinless as they were, but most of all he wanted to see his crystals. If they were similar to what he had just seen. Touched them without the barrier of a fabric. Connect with them through touch.

"You wanna see?"

The words made his head snap up to Jared and he nodded.

His uncle took his hand in his and slowly started to unwrap the cloth, hissing a little when Jensen did: "Sorry."

"It's fine."

It didn't hurt exactly, it was just really sensitive, like a wound half way to healed.

Jensen watched, mesmerized as the cloth unveiled … crystals. Blue and green, smooth, long and shiny and stunning. He looked at them closer and tried to pull them into a fist and they did. They moved when he wanted them to move, as he wanted them to move.

"Lemmy was that shade of blue."

Jensen looked at Jared: "My dad?"

Jared nodded: "Yeah. Humans … they think that blue is blue, but it has numerous shades, numerous ways of shine. And that," Jared pointed at Jensen's fingers, "is Lemmy's shade of blue."

Jensen looked at his ring and index finger, crystals. His dad's shade of blue.

"He was a good man?"

"Yeah, he was … he was a great brother and a good … a good man. And your mom, she … after seeing her be so brave, I understood why Lemmy loved her."

"Yeah."

He touched his ring finger … the crystal was as smooth as oil, making the pad of his finger just slide right off.

"All the times you … your finger … does it look the same?"

"It's the same, long and smooth but a different shade of blue. Different color of green."

Jensen nodded. Of course. Maybe that was the only way of knowing who was who. By shades of blue and green of their crystals.

When the very last of the Ice People went and jumped into the Arctic sea and got submerged under the soft waves, Jensen felt Jared place his broad palm on his shoulder. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the – now empty – space in front of him. Everyone was gone. Everyone was back to where they'd come from so many years ago. Finally at rest. Finally sleeping.

"Don't be scared."

Jared's voice was as soft and calm as ever and now … now that he had seen what the Ice People's true form was, he wondered if all those crystals made their voices like that. Or if that was just Jared.

He had so many questions, so many that he could feel his head starting to hurt, but he knew that in just a few minutes he would get all the answers without even having to open his mouth.

He wondered if he'd ever hear Jared's voice again.

He smirked: "Easy for you to say ... this ... this is where you live, it ain't

gonna kill you, but me?"

Jared nodded and squeezed his shoulder, easing the tension in the too tightly coiled muscles: "I know."

"Okay, so ... so ... now what?"

"You sure about this?"

"There's nothing, absolutely nothing for me here. It was the truth. A truth that hurt him to the depths of his soul, a truth that he wished he could ignore and go back to living in sewers or squatting in abandoned houses and avoid the planet righting or destroying itself. He had absolutely nothing and no one to return to, because what he did have was standing right before him and the rest was already submerged under the sea. "Even if the planet," he scratched his nape, "even if the planet'll go back to how it had been ... you know, before … I don't know that planet. I don't ... I don't know that Earth. And whatever the humans will do now … I don't think I wanna know that kinda planet either. I can't ... I have no one … just ... tell me, what now."

_Tell me what now, before I start freaking out, before I run away, before I change my mind, before I start screaming. Before I won't want this anymore._

"Now, you take off your clothes and just ... hold on to me."

"Okay, yeah, okay I can do that."

Jared smiled and his eyes twinkled green. Like emeralds.

He started to undress himself with shaky fingers and trembling hands; hat, scarf, gloves, jacket, pullover, shirt, shoes, pants, socks, another pair of socks, which made Jared laugh and what earned him a scowl, undershirt, t-shirt, boxers. They had stopped at some town – long empty, long forgotten – when they'd emerged from the water.

Jensen had been freezing, shaking and gasping from for real air, and Jared had decided that he needed new clothes, better clothes, dry, warm clothes. So they had searched and found them tucked away in small fishermen cottages along the shore. Jensen's clothes had always all been stolen, all borrowed, all old and worn out, so he was okay with all of that.

He kicked them to the side now and stood there naked as the day he'd been born, as the day he had wailed out of his mom and into Jared's waiting hands.

"This is," he chuckled, "weird." and looked away to the side. For some … reason … he couldn't look into Jared's eyes.

"Hey, I've seen you before, you don't … you don't have to hide."

He looked down where his hands were covering his groin and blushed, well became redder under his already red cheeks.

It was really horribly cold; he was shaking like a leaf in angry waters and he could feel the soft wind start to send little shocks of icy cold through his entire body. It felt as if fingers were pressing tiny icicles into his still clothes-warm skin.

"I k-k-know."

He was starting to stutter, his teeth chattering from the cold and he was envious of Jared, who just stood there. In his stolen jeans and stolen t-shirt as if the cold wasn't even there, which well, obviously for Jared it wasn't.

"Are ... a-are y-you gonn-gonna c-c-hange?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

He shot that out, no stuttering and no chattering, because even if all the Icies he saw before took his breath away with just how marvelous they looked like in their true form and he wanted to see Jared like that too – he couldn't. He didn't want to see his uncle in his true form, he didn't want to see what he really looked like, he wanted to see and remember Jared just like this. With warm human skin and human hair and human features. He wanted to remember the dimples whenever Jared smiled, wanted to remember the mole on his left cheek, wanted to remember the slanted eyes, the mole by his neck, the uneven teeth, the thin lips. He wanted to see that, when he'd ... go. Seeing Jared in his true form just to satisfy his curiosity seemed wrong to him. He wanted this, help him, but he wanted to remember Jared just like this.

Remarkable even as a human. Because he might not have survived seeing Jared's true form. Human brain probably wouldn't be able to even comprehend all of it.

"Then I won't."

He smiled: "T-t-thanksss."

He got a small nod at that and hugged his middle with one arm while the other one was still cupping his junk. Suddenly, he was beginning to feel shy and awkward. He shook his head to get rid of those feelings, because there was nothing to be shy about. Or embarrassed about. He … he had survived on his own, in a falling, bent Earth for twenty-three years. Stealing to survive. Hiding when he had to and attacking when he had too and he had killed. He had blood on his hands, just like that polar bear had it all around his muzzle.

He was standing there, in the middle of the Arctic, naked and exposed with a man, a family, that he wanted to be with. He chose this. He said yes to this.

He didn't want to go back, didn't want to go anywhere but with Jared.

There was nothing for him to be awkward about, so he raised his head up high and looked straight into Jared's emerald eyes.

They were ablaze, the green in them on fire.

"Jensen."

He shuddered; couldn't say if it was because of the gentle tone or because he was freezing his literally naked ass off. He couldn't control the chattering of his teeth anymore, they had a mind of their own, the same as his muscles that were beginning to spasm and send long, seemingly never-ending shudders up and down his body. He was already starting to feel a bit sluggish, his thoughts were all about _sleepsleepsleep_ , but he knew he couldn't do that. Not yet anyway.

Not here.

"'mmmm sorry."

He didn't know why, what for, he was apologizing, but his brain wasn't working on all cylinders anymore. The cold was … it was consuming him from all sides and the only point of warmth were Jared's eyes and how they were outshining the sun.

The day was beautiful. Sunny, as sunny as the weather on the Arctic could get. There were no snow storms, which he was certain was something Jared or someone else of _their_ kin arranged, there was no strong wind, except the slight breeze. It was absolutely amazing, or it would be if he wasn't freezing to death standing on a block of ice with the sea only three steps away.

"You're cold, Jensen," Jared sighed and stepped closer, dipping his head a bit down and to the left, to catch his eyes, "you ready?"

He looked up at his uncle, his best friend, a man who had always been there, even when he hadn't been physically present, and nodded. Yeah, he was ready.

He ... he'd do this. It would be all right, or so Jared had said and he trusted him. The Ice Man. The King.

"Okay then come 'ere."

He took one step closer to Jared and flinched slightly when warm arms wrapped around him and pressed him closer to Jared's chest. Solid chest where bones under the skin were crystals, the ribs were crystals, the collarbone was a crystal.

Jared had told him how at least five, if not more, of Jensen's ribs were crystals, how one of his bones in his right forearm was a crystal and it had been a lot to take in, especially when he had still been riding on adrenaline and pain.

He had been through so much, mentally and physically; stabbed, poked and prodded, learning about his mom and dad, Odie, Alineja, killing Noleih, dying – he'd died, he had actually died and was brought back to life - touched in his mind and on his body. He was still feeling aches and pains almost everywhere, skin sensitive to the touch, but somehow just knowing that the crystals inside of him would keep him safe, would protect him or at least try to protect him from more harm, made him feel as if he was soaring high up in the sky.

"Hold tight, okay. Don't let go."

He untangled his arms from where they were pressed between their chests and wrapped them around Jared, fisting the man's shirt at the back.

"Y-y-you hooold t-t-ight."

"'m not gonna let go, I promise."

"I-I-I kkknow."

He did know. He knew his uncle would never ever let him go. He would just have to make sure that he wouldn't let go either.

"Ready?"

He was ready. He was ready as much as he could ever be ready, but still ... this wasn't something - this wasn't something that a human being could ever do. It wasn't physically possible to do this. It ... he was going to die. He was going to die a horrific death; choking on freezing water and there would be nothing he'd be able to do, because he knew Jared would never let him go. No matter how much he'd struggle, Jared wouldn't let go of him.

"N-n-no cry-y-ystalsss in m-m-my lungs."

Jared shook his head: "Not this time, Jensen."

"G-go-g-gonna h-h-hurt?"

"Trust me."

He did. He did so badly, he could feel the trust heat up his whole body, from the toes he dug into the snow to the tips of his hair that were probably all frozen spikes now. Or maybe the heat was all Jared's fault, the guy was warm even in this freezing cold. It was like hugging fire, even in this biting cold.

He couldn't speak, couldn't even make a sound so he just nodded and clutched at the back of Jared's shirt tighter.

"Let's go then Jensen."

Being manhandled wasn't something he liked, wasn't something he tolerated and if anyone did it to him, that person soon found a knife stuck somewhere on their body. But this time, he let it happen, braced himself and stiffened in the tight embrace Jared had him in.

One step.

He closed his eyes, trying really had to relax, but couldn't – fear was gripping him tight, making his whole body stiff and heavy like a block of cement.

Another step.

But that didn't matter to Jared, because his uncle was still propelling them both towards the edge of the ice block and no matter what he'd do, he wouldn't be able to stop it.

Another step.

He gripped Jared's shirt tighter, hissing when he nearly broke his index crystal, and pushed himself closer to his uncle's chest, pulling the shirt between his teeth.

Another step.

He was scared, he was scared, he was scared, he was going to die and it was going to hurt and he didn't want to die. But he couldn't stop it, Jared was too strong, too fast and before he could scream out to stop … there was no more solid ground beneath his left foot.

Another step.

And a leap into a thirteen feet long fall, where he couldn't see anything but blue - yellow sky and white snow, where all he felt was the rush of the wind against his ears and Jared's hard chest pressed against his own.

Then the water came.

They crashed into the water, feet first and it felt as if he broke through an inch thick glass. He could feel the force of the impact reverberate through his shin bones and up to his hips, but he had no time to think about if maybe he broke his legs because then the harsh, cold water was rushing over his head, blocking his ability to draw in a breath. He wanted Jared's crystals in his lungs … he wanted that feeling of breathing back.

But this was it. The point of no return.

The coldness of the water shocked him so much that he let go of Jared's shirt, flailing his hands in the water, trying to swim away, tugging at Jared's whole body but Jared held him tight, bone crushingly tight.

He closed his eyes tighter and tried to find some kinda purchase on Jared's body again; he scrambled with his fingers, probably scratching Jared up pretty good - but that wouldn't matter in a few minutes or even sooner - until he finally found some floppy fabric of the shirt that he could grab hold of.

He could feel Jared tangle their legs together, pulling them both even closer to each other. There was no way for him to escape. Jared was strong and he could breathe under all this frigid water and he could see and he would never let go.

Jensen didn't know if that made him feel better or worse.

His body was fighting, his brain was screaming at him how wrong this was, how his lungs needed air, sweet, delicious air, how he was going to die if he wouldn't get air.

He wanted Jared's crystals in his lungs! Now!

He couldn't breathe and his lungs were starting to ache like something was squeezing them into a pulp. He needed air. He tugged once, trying to worm himself out of Jared's arms, but his uncle just gripped him tighter and hid him into his embrace, shielding his front from the biting water.

Jared felt … hot, which was such a difference to the freezing water. His chest was warm pressed to Jared's like that, while his back was already frozen solid – or so it felt to him.

The water was so cold, so cold it burned his skin; tiny pinpricks of flames licking at every pore of his skin. He was burning and freezing both at the same time, but Jared was still holding him tight and tightening his hold with every inch they fell through the water.

He remembered the lake. He had been drowning and it was hurting him, the water all around him, the surface so close yet so far away and he was sinking, sinking as if he had been a stone. And then he was lying on the frozen lake, with his Uncle Sam leaning over him lips moving, forming his name.

He knew that Jared would only let his hold go, when they would crash to the sea's floor and joined the rest of Jared's brethren. His brethren.

But he was going to die before that. He was already dying. He could feel it. He needed to breathe, he needed to do it so he opened his mouth - it was instinct, he couldn't help it - and swallowed down water that filled his stomach and his lungs. But when he had done that in the ocean on the way here, Jared gave him air, made him breathe but here, now … it burned. It hurt so much he screamed, but all that did was fill his guts with even more glacial water.

"Jensen…"

He snapped his eyes open and saw Jared looking at him, mouthing: "Let go."

It looked ... funny and he'd laugh if he wasn't busy dying and all, but it looked funny. The water was surprisingly bright blue, there was sunlight still coming through the surface of the sea, there were seals swimming above them and he could see a polar bear's paws treading water a bit to the left of Jared and it felt ... crazy.

He was drowning. He was dying. He was falling down to the sea's floor with a man who showed him the strangest of things, who made him let things go, who was more a family to him than any human could ever be.

He didn't want to close his eyes, he wanted to see all of this, wanted to sear it into his brain ... this stunning beauty. But he had to close his eyes, because the bitter cold water burned his skin, curling around him, pushing into him through every pore in his body.

He let go.

It didn't hurt when Jared grinned at him. It didn't hurt when he grinned back.

This was what peace felt like. What love felt like. What belonging felt like.

What family felt like.

It didn't hurt all that much when his back hit something squishy and soft, didn't hurt when Jared gripped his biceps, pushed at him and turned them around, so that Jared was now lying on the sea's floor. It didn't hurt when his legs fell between his uncle's spread ones, didn't hurt when his toes dug into something mucky, didn't hurt when his hands fell over Jared's shoulders.

What did hurt was watching Jared's face start to morph and lose its skin in big patches; forehead, cheeks, ears, hair, neck, chest ... tan skin flaking off in chunks that floated up to the sea's surface for the fish to munch on. It made him want to vomit, but what he could already see peeking through the skin and the muscles and the gooey green blood was so shiny, so blue.

Dark blue, bright blue, pulsing green, blue and green he had never seen before in nature was being unfolded before his eyes.

He could only watch with a conscious that was fading fast, lungs squeezed and screaming for air, black spots already trying to take him away, as Jared's skin fell away and the blue-green crystals that formed his uncle's body were all there was.

Jared's arms sneaked around his shoulders and then pulled, crashing their chests together and then he screamed bubbles of water when he felt something plunged into his chest and straight into his heart.

The last thing he felt was his forehead colliding with Jared's smooth, blue neck.

It was bright; early morning with the sun already hot and punching eyes with its beams.

"You stabbed me!"

"Whoah, hey, Jensen …"

"You fucking stabbed me, you asshole. In my," he pulled up his shirt and looked down his chest, searching for a gaping hole where his heart was, "heart, you dick."

"Jensen, hey!"

Jensen dropped his shirt, one part because there was nothing at all to see at the spot where Jared's crystal penetrated his chest and one huge part because damn, his uncle's shouting wasn't something one ignored.

"What?"

"Look around, kid."

Jensen did and what he saw was breathtaking.

"Where are we?"

"Earth, still."

"We ghosts?"

"Not the kind from the horror movies, but in a way. Just like I said."

"My body is under miles of water, but my … what? Soul? Is here."

"Yeah, in a way, you could say so."

"Wow."

There was nothing else to say to express the awe Jensen felt when he looked around. There was the lake, still frozen, there was the mountain, still with a rocky incline, there was the forest and the birds and …

"Can we go to Odie's cave?"

"Jensen …"

"Please."

Jared bit his lower lip and nodded: "If that's what you want to do."

Jensen wanted. Odie had been his friend, his uncle too and he wanted to …

"I wanna see … just …"

"We can go some other time, we don't have to go now."

"Okay, yeah. Another time."

"Okay."

Jensen turned around and squinted at the bright sun.

"So what do we do now?"

Jared shrugged: "Dream."

"Awesome plan, uncle. Hope I won't die of boredom."

"You're such a drama queen, squirt. Just take all of this like a … a movie."

"Never saw any movies…" he mumbled through a pout, feeling like a child again, squinting his eyes from the glaring sun.

"Well then … enjoy."

The creatures who came from the darkness, who watched life and light be born would forever dream of how no dawn would ever break for the planet they'd seen get created and later destroyed.

No one would ever see how the icy cold water would be stripping a human of its skin little by little, strip him bare of everything, until there would be nothing but bones mixed with crystals lying on top of a shape made of sparkling blue-green crystals.

No one would ever see dawn break for Earth.

**The End**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!**


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